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camthesolemnone · 3 years

Note

*crashes through door*

HI I HAVE ANOTHER ONE!!

Ok. Soulmate AU!! it's the one with the red string connecting you to your soul mate by your pinkie. Make up some rules for it if you need to!! I like to do the thing where the string gets tighter/looser as they move closer and farther from their s/o.

Ok, goodnight, I love you, bye!

*mwah*

*passes out just outside door*

Whoops accidentally made Zhanna older than Heavy in this one. Well I mean, maybe she is, but I've always written Mikhail as the oldest child in his family. Anyway, enjoy!

Wide eyes full of tears and flushed cheeks was what Mama came across upon turning to face who was tugging at her shawl. Little Zhanna, no more than five, was highly concerned about her baby brother.

"Mama! Misha’s finger is blue!"

Fearing that her son had developed gangrene from the cold brought on by the heavy storm outside, the distressed mother turned away from her soup pot and made haste towards the living room.

"Zhanna! Go get your father!" She instructed, entering the space, and the small girl nodded rapidly as she dashed off to where Papa was doing laundry.

Mama approached her child. The infant was situated in the center of the carpet, tiny hands shaking and eyes also leaking. Mikhail couldn't form words yet. He could only helplessly wail as he became light-headed; he had lost all feeling in his pinkie finger.

Mama kneeled down near him, and Zhanna and Papa appeared a second later.

"What is going on! Is moy syn alright?" The older man cried.

Mama took the boy’s hands in her own and examined them closely. As Zhanna had announced, his left pinkie was a light shade a blue. At the base of Mikhail’s finger was a small red string, fastened so tightly that it constricted the blood flow. The Russian mother breathed a sigh of relief.

“There is nothing to fear, he has simply acquired his soulstring,” Mama explained, standing up and giving her family a reassuring nod.

Papa let out his own held breath at the fortunate news, but Zhanna simply stared at her parents in confusion.

“Mama, what is a soulstring?”

Her father reached out to grasp her mother’s hand, and the two of them smiled down at their daughter.

“Young Zhanna, a soulstring is leetle red string around your pinkie that connects you to your soulmate: the person you are destined to fall in love with. Some people’s thread appears immediately after birth, but for others, it can take several years before their special partner is chosen,” Mama revealed.

Papa added on, motioning to Mikhail in the process.

“The tighter the string is, the farther you are away from your soulmate. Seeing as your brother’s is strong enough to cut off circulation, there is good chance his soulmate does not live in this country.”

Zhanna glanced over at the thread on Mikhail’s finger and then back to her parents, crossing her arms.

“What happens to the string when you find your ‘soulmate?’“ Zhanna inquired.

Papa crouched down to ruffle his daughter’s hair while Mama picked up Mikhail and left the room to resume dinner.

“Once you meet fated love, the string falls off for good,” he explained.

The small girl beamed and ran a hand through her black hair.

“Chudesno! I can’t wait to get my soulstring!”

Mikhail had given up on his chances of ever finding his love or feeling his finger again.

Forty seven years had passed since the red string initially appeared on his pinkie, and not once had he ever felt it loosen up. He felt hopeless and silently wondered most days if the higher beings had made a mistake. Maybe he truly wasn’t attached to anyone and they had tied the thread just to spite him. Instead, the Russian decided to spend his time taking care of his family.

His father had long since passed and Yana and Bronislava had run off with their soulmates, but at least Mikhail could still provide for his mother and Zhanna.

An ad in the newspaper intrigued him one morning: a mercenary job in America offering thousands. The giant immediately took to calling the company, known as Mann Co., and asked for a position. Not only would he be able to make enough money to provide a comfortable life for Mama and his sister, he was delighted at the opportunity to wield guns against evil men with no consequence. Moving away from the Russian blizzards would also prove to be a positive change.

Within two months of his interview, the new Heavy Weapons Specialist was landing down in New Mexico. A few days were spent getting used to his new surroundings and signing paperwork, but eventually, the bus came by his hotel to take him to the Reliable Excavation Demolition base.

While lounging in the tough leather seat, Heavy glanced at the surrounding seats and took notice of two other men sitting in the back. They both wore red and yellow bands on their arms, indicating they were some of Mikhail’s new teammates. Preferring not to spend a year with a group of people who disliked him, the Russian moved to the back of the bus to make a good first impression.

“Privet, I am Heavy Weapons Guy,” he began.

The two men looked up from their respective pieces of literature. The younger of the two lazily held and flipped a baseball magazine with one hand. The other man, taller and masked, was gripping a thick, plain-covered novel.

“Yo! I heard that our Heavy was supposed to be, well, you know, heavy, but damn you’re fa--OWW!” The Bostonian shouted, being met with a swift slap from the man sitting beside him.

“Please ignore Scout here. This rotten bunny doesn’t seem to have any manners.”

“Go to hell, you French bastard!” Scout shot back.

The insults continued and Heavy found himself silently slinking back into his seat. He had the strength to snap both of them like toothpicks if he so desired, but it was better not to end his career before it started.

Along the ride, the bus stopped several times to pick up the rest of the RED team. First came their pyromaniac and engineer, then the sniper and soldier. The demolition’s expert came by himself and the final stop was saved for a relatively young woman in a purple dress.

“Er, hello, everyone. I am Miss Pauling, your boss’s secretary. I’m scheduled to give you guys a tour around the base and to break down your jobs. Raise your hand if you have any questions and please, try to cooperate with one another,” the woman sighed.

Dell, the shortest man on the team with a yellow hardhat, raised his hand.

“Yes, Engineer?” Miss Pauling prompted.

“Isn’t there supposed to be one more fella here with us?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Miss Pauling glanced toward the ceiling briefly as if she were really pondering the answer before turning to Engineer.

“Medic’s flight got delayed due to a massive snowstorm in Berlin. He should be here tomorrow at the earliest.”

It was impossible to notice the difference just by looking at it, but Mikhail nearly jerked forward when he felt it. Was he really going insane in his desperation? Had the string really just loosened? It most certainly had, he had felt the pressure ease up ever so slightly, but something in the back of his mind that told him it was just his imagination. The giant shook his head and groaned, barely able to pay attention to anything else Miss Pauling said.

His mind became a battlefield of longing versus absurdity. The thread had suffocated him during his prime. There was no possible explanation as to why his soulmate would be appearing now of all times. By forty seven, Mikhail was overweight, balding, had several scars from his time in Siberia, and was rated ugly by every woman he had attempted to romance. He couldn’t think of a single reason as to why his love would find him attractive now, and it deepened the eternal hole in his heart.

But Heavy held onto the faintest thread of hope. Maybe, just maybe, his suffering was about to come to an end. He would meet with the woman or man fate had binded him to, and he could finally be happy.

That night, Mikhail stared at his bedroom ceiling wide awake. Once their team’s doctor arrived in New Mexico, he would know for certain what destiny had in store for him.

Ludwig’s attempt at getting some shut eye on the flight failed. He couldn’t fall asleep even if he wanted to, for his pinkie was regaining its color. Somehow, this job as a battlefield medic that he had selected out of the blue was leading his soul to its missing half.

“It’s only a matter of time,” he murmured to himself, eyes more hopeful than the day he earned his doctorate’s degree.

Heavy awoke to the sound of loud yelling and banging on his door.

“Attention! You will be dressed and be stationed in the recreational room for role call in five minutes! That is an order!” Soldier commanded.

The softer, more compassionate voice of Miss Pauling sighed and spoke through the door.

“I’m sorry Heavy. I couldn’t say anything to convince him not to come with me to wake you guys up. Just settle down in the rec room in a few minutes, okay?”

Mikhail groaned, both from a lack of sleep and the sudden wake-up call. He complied, however, adorning his red, short sleeved shirt, his bulletproof vest, the bandolier for his minigun, pants, a belt, and a pair of sturdy combat boots.

When the heavy weapon’s specialist arrived in the rec room, it was absolute chaos. Spy had moved on from insulting Scout to bickering with Sniper, Demoman was already sloshing around a bottle of alcohol, Scout had stolen Engineer’s hardhat and was taunting him with it, and Soldier was shouting at a terrified looking Pyro.

“RED Team! Enough! It’s only the first day and you’re already at each other’s throats!” Miss Pauling stomped, placing her hands on her hips.

Some the the mercenaries, including Heavy, faced towards their higher-up while the others continued to do their own thing.

“Now look, your first battle will begin as soon as Medic arrives. I’m heading over to the airport to pick him up, so I advise you all check over your equipment,” her words more of a command than a suggestion.

Heavy’s eyes widened. He felt it again.

He decided in that moment that polishing Sascha could wait.

Before Miss Pauling could leave the room, the large man scurried over to her and placed a massive hand on her shoulder to grab her attention.

“Yes, Heavy? Do you need something?” She asked plainly.

Mikhail nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Da, I want to come to airport with you, if you do not mind. I promise not to cause any problems.”

Pauling raised an eyebrow.

“Pozhaluysta, Miss,” the Russian begged, rubbing his forever blue pinkie with his other hand.

Miss Pauling opened her mouth to speak, but her words died on her lips when she noticed the tiny gesture. Instead, she gave him a short nod of understanding and proceeded out of the building.

In the car, Heavy’s leg bounced. His breathing was deep, and his whole body seemed to sweat with fear and anticipation. With every inch the vehicle moved, he could feel the burden on his finger lighten up. This wasn’t just some illusion or dream, it was really happening. After forty seven years of waiting, he was about to meet the love of his life.

Miss Pauling took note of his anxiousness, but didn’t say anything during the trip, giving Mikhail plenty of time to ask himself a million questions. What would his lover look like? Would they be a man or a woman? Would they have a heart of gold, or a rotten core that sought to make the Russian miserable at every turn?

Finally, the airport was in sight. Mikhail could hardly withstand the separation between himself and his soulmate. He wanted, needed to find his other half. He needed to shower them with all of the affection he had been waiting so long to administer. He needed to hear their voice and inhale their scent and feel their body against his own.

Miss Pauling nearly tripped over her high heels trying to catch up with the eager Russian. She had seem some truly heartwarming instances of soulmates meeting over the years, but never before in her life had she seen someone so desperate to unite with their fated love.

He had to hold onto a railing as he stepped out of the plane to avoid passing out.

Ludwig had always experienced air-sickness while flying, but more than that, his hand was trembling. The string that had plagued his right hand for decades was loose, looser than it had ever been before. The doctor was overwhelmed; he wanted to throw up and cry tears of happiness at the same time. This was his moment, his soulmate was waiting for him.

As he stood near the loading gate, the thread loosened further, and it signaled that his soon-to-be lover was getting closer, closer.

Unable to withhold his excitement, Medic dashed across the airport. He got caught up in several crowds and passed right by the luggage pickup, but none of that mattered. He was following his heart’s call now; he let the slackening of his bindings guide his every step.

“Heavy! Please slow down!” Miss Pauling yelled, but the giant had blocked her out a long time ago.

There was only one voice he was willing to let in now. He pushed past a group of adults with the tiniest apology as he charged up the stairs. If he were anywhere else, he would have most likely been stared at and thrown out by security. In the chaos of the airport, everyone assumed he was simply running to reunite with a loved one.

An opening in the crowds.

Everything went silent.

The world slowed down.

Mikhail spotted him, his soulmate across the grand building. He was more handsome than he could have ever imagined, and although he didn’t know it yet, Ludwig also firmly believed that he had just encountered an angel.

The soulstring unraveled and landed on the ground.

All remaining distance between them was covered in a second. The force of the impact sent them to the ground, but neither of them cared. Arms wrapped around strong bodies, tears spilled out of adoring eyes, and lips whispered the pledges of love they had so desperately longed to hear.

At last, Mikhail and Ludwig were home.

#tf2 #heavymedic #fanfiction #soulmates

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glxssylaufey · 3 years

Text

Mischief Maker - fic teaser

a/n: this is my very first time writing so please forgive me if it’s not that great or if there’s lots of mistakes! i hope you enjoy it nonetheless :)

summary: loki x reader ; There’s a new guest staying at the Avengers Tower. To make matters worse, the reader is put in charge to watch over the new member of the compound.

word count: 1,782

warnings: none

There was something exceptional about the way you could stroke your paintbrush upon a canvas so many times until an entire story formed upon the platform. You were sat on top of a grassy hill about a mile or so from the Avengers tower, basking in the warm sunlight while you painted away at a piece you had worked on for quite some time now. Being an Avenger was all you could have ever asked for, but of course it had its moments that never failed to make you completely irritable. Whether it be Tony’s constant fuss about literally anything or even Thor simply chewing too loud. Because of this, you found painting was an excellent outlet for all the negative energy that builds up throughout time. Not to mention the pieces you made were high quality. You had never attended any kind of art school in the past, the talent had come to you naturally.

Though like most great things, nothing lasts forever. Your concentration was abruptly interrupted when your phone started ringing. Glancing down at your phone, you weren’t at all surprised to find that the caller was Tony. You swore that man had something going on practically every hour of the day. Not even giving the call a second thought, you continued your gentle painting. Of course, Tony was stubborn. A second round of ringing started almost immediately after the first had finished. Sighing with obvious displeasure, you sat your brush down and wiped your hands of any wet paint. Clearing your throat, you quickly tap the accept button and hold the phone to your ear.

“Tony, I’m-”

“Busy, yes, yes, aren’t we all?” he cuts you off. You roll your eyes. “Listen, I just need you to get in here, we’re having an emergency meeting.”

As much as you would have loved to keep the day as peaceful as it was, you were an Avenger and had a job to do. Besides, Tony never called to have an emergency meeting unless it was truly an emergency. Glancing to the direction of the tower, you sigh into the phone.

“I’ll be in soon. This better be good.” you grumble before ending the call, not even waiting for Tony’s response.

When you entered the tower, you immediately made your way to the kitchen to wash both your hands and art supplies. Much to your dismay, you found that Tony was already there waiting for you. You weren’t necessarily going to avoid him, but you were contemplating setting off this meeting for as long as possible. This was supposed to be a relaxing day after all.

“Aha! You’re finally here Picasso, now get over here.” he spoke in his usual pushy manner. He took long strides towards you and snatched everything out of your hands, quickly setting them down on the counter with very little care.

At this point, what could you really do besides listen to him to get this whole situation over with?

“Good god, Stark, what’s going on here?” you asked, making the irritation in your voice noticeable. Tony simply scoffs as he quickly walks you into the next room where everyone else was uncomfortably sitting.

“Well, I don’t think ‘good god’ is the way to put it.” he sarcastically states, pushing you softly into the meeting room. Tony’s remarks suddenly make sense when your eyes meet the god that was sitting in the room, handcuffed and muzzled. He looked at you through dark eyelashes, a strand of raven hair resting upon his face. Loki. Knowing his past, you were surprised at how calmly he sat there next to his brother in a room full of the same heroes that took him down. You weren’t an Avenger during the attack on New York, but you most certainly heard all the stories. From the traumatic experiences, to the excessive repair to the city, you’ve heard all the things imaginable. Not that you needed very much explanation, seeing as you lived in New York when the incident happened.

“Is this some kind of joke?” you ask, turning to look at Tony, your voice barely a whisper. There was a quiet wave of sighs from the rest of the Avengers in the room, almost as if they all already knew your reaction ahead of time.

“Oh, I sure hope so.” Tony spoke loudly. “If this is a joke, now’s the time to tell us, Point Break.”, he said, stepping to the side so he could create full eye contact with the blonde god.

“This is not a joke, Stark.” Thor claimed, keeping the eye contact as he stood from his previous seat. “My brother has spent a great deal of time in the dungeons back on Asgard. He has changed.”

There was a small exhale from Bruce that caught your attention. When you looked at him you found a look of impatience on his face.

“So why bring him back to Earth?” Bruce asked, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I decided it would be best to allow my brother to work here as an Avenger.” Thor explained. The remark made your eyes go wide. “Do you all not agree that keeping him here in our sight is better than allowing him to wander free where he could possibly do more harm than good?” Thor’s suggestion caused Tony to throw his hands up in the air.

“Then I don’t really think he’s really changed that much if we have to babysit him.” he advised. You sighed lightly and looked back to the older brother.

“I don’t know, Thor.” you started “I have to agree with Tony. Plus, I’m sure the rest of us are thinking the same thing.” you gestured towards the rest of the people in the room. Thor scanned the room to find both Natasha and Steve nodding their heads in silent agreement. But Thor was relentless.

“Please, Lady Y/N, I assure you my brother means no harm.” he turned to you with pleading eyes. “I beg that you give him just ten days to prove himself worthy of an Avenger. I beg you all.”

You had always had a soft spot for Thor and watching him look around the room desperately at everyone wasn’t helping you at all. Thor Odinson was one of your closest friends and you felt you owed it to him to allow his brother to share the compound with the rest of the team. Even if the brother in question was a cold-hearted mass murderer.

“If nobody else will agree to keep tabs on him, I will.” you agreed with a heavy sigh. There was a loud eruption of voices from the room, Clint had even walked out. They didn’t seem to matter though, as all you could focus on was the excitement on Thor’s face.

“Oh, it’s a miracle!” Thor exclaimed, ushering towards you to pull you into a bear hug. “My family will be forever grateful, Lady Y/N!” he vowed as he nearly squeezed the life out of you.

While Thor proceeded to embrace your body to his, you couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to Loki who still sat so motionless. After moments of staring, he slightly cocks his head to the side, carefully observing you. Observing the person that would act as his chaperone for the next couple days. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but something about his piercing gaze made your skin crawl. Thor finally sets you back onto your feet, snapping back to reality. You soon realize that you were just left in the room with Tony, Steve and the two brothers.

“Like you said, Thor, he gets ten days!” Tony declared, walking out of the room. Thor quietly mutters something under his breath before turning back to Loki, who was now craning his neck to look up at his older brother. Thor began to speak to him when you felt a hand placed tenderly on your shoulder. When you turned around, you were met with Steve who had clear concern written all over his body language.

“Are you sure you’re up for this? This is Loki you’re dealing with.” Steve spoke in a whisper. You nodded quickly, not giving what he was saying much thought. Mostly because you knew that if you dwelled on the situation, you would start to panic.

“Of course I’ll be okay. I wouldn’t have agreed if I knew I couldn’t handle it.” you confirmed to him. Steve could tell you were anxious, yet he let you be. He gives you a small pat on the shoulder before exiting the room as the rest of the Avengers did. Looking back towards the gods, you found Loki was standing and out of his chains while Thor removed his muzzle in a not so brotherly manner. Loki was tall, much taller than you that’s for sure. The only person that stood taller than him was Thor, even then he was only taller by an inch or so. Once it seemed like Thor was done practically unwrapping Loki, you slowly took a step towards the two of them.

“I’ve told Loki that you shall tell me if he starts to misbehave.” Thor confirmed to you with a caring smile. Loki gives a curt scoff and rolls his eyes, making your body go tense with nervousness. Thor must have noticed because he gave his brother a swift shove in the back. “I will leave you two alone. Please tell me if things go wrong, Y/N.” and with no further instruction, you were left alone with the God of Mischief himself. The room felt heavy with silence as Loki continued to look everywhere in the room except for you. Although you did not mind at all, seeing his stares seemed to make you jittery. You couldn’t help but jump a little when you finally heard him speak.

“Am I allowed my own chambers or will I be forced into that cage again?” he asked with bitterness. His voice was deep and smooth, it almost seemed to echo in your ears. When you looked back up at him, you noticed he still wasn’t looking at you much to your relief.

“Oh, um, no. I’ll show you to your room.” you spoke quickly once you remembered how to form words again. You turned on your heels towards the door to lead Loki to one of the spare rooms in the Avengers compound. It was at that moment that you began to question your chaperoning skills if you couldn’t even bring yourself to look him in the eyes. One thing was for sure, these were going to be a very long ten days.

#tom hiddleston #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki #marvel #marvel fanfic series #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#fanfic #fic teaser

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marrys-dream-world · 3 years

Text

if we’re bound to be something, why not together? (chapter 11)

Read on AO3

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Notes: Double update to cheer up a bit! This chapter turned out much longer than I thought it would be, almost double the size of other chapters. No content warning, just fluff! The song "Blueming" by IU, I think this fits this chapter a lot so if you want a song to listen while you read, it's that! Day 11: Voice Mail/Phone calls. @ladynoirjuly

After their last patrol, Ladybug sent Chat Noir a link through their communicators.

[Download this!!] She sent along with it, eagerly waiting for him.

[As my lady commands : D] He sent back almost immediately.

That talk had been a bit of an eye-opener to Marinette. She was getting to know Chat Noir more and more each day and she treasured every bit of information she got, jealousy holding it close to chest, hesitating to write it even in her diary. He was a quiet student during class, he had a friend whose name was definitely not Sallie (ugh), his father was distant, his mother and mother-figure were out of reach. He was lonely. All this information was worrying, just not as much as what she learned that night. At that moment, with him shaking in her arms, she made a decision.

Being there for him just as Ladybug wasn't going to cut it anymore.

This idea wasn't anything new, she had been playing with it in her mind for a while now. So when she sent him a chat room code through her communicator with other instructions and detransformed, she was fairly confident it would work. Picking up her phone, she smiles as she saw that there was already a message.

My lady!! <3 <3 <3

down, Chaton. :)

I'm just mdlaomqnahsbsk

Is it okay, though? Talking like this?

yeah, i've been testing this app with RR and it's fine, there's no way we'll leak our numbers or anything like that to each other. don't worry ;)

This app is to warn each other about attacks and schedule meetings? Are you going to add RR to the chat?

nah, i'll just make one for the 3 of us. this is one for us to talk and stuff, doesn't need to be about job things.

The "CN is typing…" kept it's place on the screen for enough time for her to start getting worried.

You don't need to force yourself for my sake, bug. I don't want to bother you.

Marinette thought about making a joke. The situation, however, didn't seem right for it.

you never bother me.

His response came almost immediately.

You never texted me before.

guess i'll have to learn what's the maximum amount of cat memes a person can humanely send per day

Is that a challenge, my lady?

;) ;) ;)

just remember to not blow up my phone, we have class

I'll use my powers for good, don't worry : D

Marinette smiled and put down her phone, fixing up her bag for the next day on the chance (certainty) that she would wake up late the next day. When she picked the phone up again, there was a single text:

Thank you, bug. Good night.

He was absolutely unstoppable after that. Next morning, as she was brushing her teeth, her cell phone pinged with the telling sound from the app and she smiled as she opened the app on her phone.

Look, look, we can change each other's names.

good to know

You changed "CN" 's name to "Chat-terbox"

Chat-terbox

You know me so well. Soulmates.

Chat-terbox changed your name to "lady of my heart"

lady of my heart

yeah, i should have seen that coming, that's on me.

oh yeah, gm

Chat-terbox

Good morning <3 <3 <3

Are you in class already?

Marinette froze in place, eyes snapping to the clock. There was only ten minutes before the class started. She bolted, barely noticing if she had on the right shoes or if her jacket matched her pants. So much for being an aspiring designer. Marinette blurred past the kitchen, taking a croissant and a banana and cramming them into her mouth as she ran. She made it to the classroom in the middle of the roll call, not even stopping by the lockers.

“Thanks for joining us, Marinette.” Ms. Bustier said dryly. “Please take a seat.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” She answered, out of breath. Sitting down, she took out her tablet and noticed another message making her phone screen glow.

Chat-terbox

Is everything okay?

lady of my heart

i made it late in class but the teacher let me in hehehe

i think she's used to it *forehead sweatdrop emoji*

Chat-terbox

Hahaha a friend of mine just did the same thing, you two are twins

lady of my heart

let me guess… Sallie *eyeroll emoji*

Chat-terbox

I mean, yeah, but why the eyeroll???

lady of my heart

you just talk too much about her, don't you think

Chat-terbox

You sound just like Plagg.

lady of my heart

maybe bc we're right

Chat-terbox

Why does that bother you? Jealous? *eyes emoji*

lady of my heart

as if *kicks u*

Chat-terbox

You kick your partner? You kick his body like the football? Oh! Oh! Jail for my lady! Jail for my lady for One Thousand Years!

lady of my heart

since my fate is already decided *kicks u again*

Chat-terbox

Nooooooooo

A giggle escaped her mouth.

"Marinette?" Ms. Bustier raised an eyebrow. "Something you want to share with the class?"

"N-no, ma'am." She answered, face heating up. Marinette quietly put her phone away, ignoring Alya's prying eyes.

She only opened the app again during the break between classes, moving away from a curious Alya to hang by Kim and Alíx.

Chat-terbox

I'll assume you're actually paying attention to class, which is great. You probably need it to make up all those crazy plans ;)

SM beaten by ninth grade physics

Hey, boo, did you see this one SM identity theory video making rounds on the internet?

Marinette frowned.

lady of my heart

there's nothing new on the ladyblog

Chat-terbox

Oh, it's not on the Ladyblog, here

She opened the video as quickly as she could before Ms. Bustier came back, only from the sound to make Kim and Alíx burst out into laughter.

lady of my heart

i opened it in my class I hate u so muuuuuch ughhhhhh

Chat-terbox

C'mon, boo, it was funny

lady of my heart

>: (

Chat-terbox

: 3

This time, she willingly put her phone away.

On the next break, she tried to ignore the pinging from her phone. However, curiosity killed the cat(‘s lady).

Chat-terbox

Please don't be mad, my lady, I have written you a lengthy apology to make up for sins

File attachment: apology letter for my beloved.doc

lady of my heart

if it's another rickroll i swear to god i'll END you

Chat-terbox

You can see it's not a video, it's safe to open

Scout's honor

lady of my heart

u were never a scout

Chat-terbox

I could be!!

Please read <3

Sighing deeply, she clicked on the document. He would never shut up if she didn't. It read as:

l would like to offer my sincerest According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible…

She clicked back

Chat-terbox

Did you like it? :3

lady of my heart

…

blocked

Chat-terbox

Boo, noooooooo

After that, Marinette didn’t open the app again no matter how much her phone pinged. She wasn’t mad, not really, just a bit annoyed. Before lunch ended, she would read and answer. But now, she was stuck watching Alya and Nino play Super Penguino and make moon eyes at each other. Adrien wasn’t allowed to join them, as much as he begged his father, and she was feeling pretty bummed about that. She poked around her chicken pasta when she heard her phone playing a familiar song.

kore nani kore nani korenanikorenanikorenanikorenani-

Chat Noir!

"Is everything okay?" Marinette asked as soon as she picked up the phone. Alya and Nino, noticing her worried tone, paused their game to look at her.

"You picked up!" Chat Noir said, cheery. "I thought you blocked me."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Is there actually something wrong? I'll hang up "

"No, wait!" He yelped. "There's nothing wrong, I just wanted to talk. Are you busy?"

Marinette looked over at Nino and Alya, who were still watching her expectantly. She smiles reassuringly and waved them away, furtively signaling to Alya that it was Chat Noir on the phone. Her friend nodded and bumped her shoulder on Nino's.

"C'mon, babe, let Marinette talk to her 'friend' by herself." Alya said, leering.

"Why did you say it like that?" Nino asked, confused. Then, his eyes lit up. "Is it Adrien? Tell him I said hi!"

"No!" Marinette shouted, gaining weird stares from the other patrons.

"No, you aren't busy?" Chat Noir asked on the phone.

"No, it's not Adrien, or no, you won't tell him I said hi?" Nino asked.

"It's another friend." She said hurriedly before focusing on the phone. "I can talk now, not that busy."

"If you're with your friends, it's okay." He said, rather meekly for her chaton.

"I'm just third-wheeling." Marinette said as Alya and Nino began another round of Super Penguins. "Why did you call? Aren't you having lunch now?"

Chat Noir chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah, I'm having lunch at home and I'm all alone, so I thought I could give you a call. Is that too much?"

"No, it's fine." She reassured. "Why are you alone? What about your siblings?"

"What siblings?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"Uh… the siblings I assumed you had for some reason." She said awkwardly, noticing how out there she sounded the more she spoke.

"Really? You thought I had siblings? Why?"

"Because you're just like an annoying little brother." She said teasingly, a complete lie.

Chat Noir struck her as a mischievous, but supportive older brother. The kind that sneaked you treats after midnight and comforted you after failing a math test. Not like she could tell him that, though. If he was a little brother, it would be to a stressed older sister that he admired a lot and that found him reliable in return. She dreamed about meeting them sometimes and now it seemed that they would truly stay dreams forever.

"I would like an older brother or sister." He sighed longingly. "The closest I have is my cousin, but he lives in another country."

"Oh, sorry."

"No, it's better this way, we would kill each other if we lived together. Everyday I would have to check for poison in my breakfast."

"A true sibling dynamic."

"Yep."

"Hey, why aren't you having lunch with your friends then?" With Sallie, she wanted to tease, but held back for fear of sounding, as Tikki said, bitter.

"My father would rather I have lunch at home." He said vaguely. "My friends did invite me to go with them to a café, but my father didn't like the idea. He only likes one of them, the rest he says are bad influences."

"Let me guess, the one he likes is Sallie?"

"I can hear you rolling your eyes, but yes."

"Well, if you ever get lonely at lunch, you can call me." Marinette said honestly. "I don't mind it."

"Thank you." Chat Noir said softly.

They spent the rest of lunch talking on the phone, even sending pictures of their food to each other (Chat's limp salad made her take a bunch of mental notes to take him some pastries next patrol). On the way to school, as she walked to the classroom, they kept talking. She could hear Chat getting on a vehicle (a bus?) and when he got to school, she was disappointed he had to hang up. After Marinette clicked the end call button, the first thing she noticed when she looked up was Alya's smug face and Nino's confused one.

"Wow, does my bro have some competition, dude?" Nino said. "You spent the entire break talking."

"What? No, that was just a friend!"

"Yeah, a friend." Alya sing-songed, making her face heat up.

"Yeah." Marinette said firmly. "There's no competition for anything."

"Who's competing?" A sweet voice asked from behind her and she jumped.

"Adrien!" She shouted, scrambling. "N-nothing hehe."

"Dude!" Nino smiled. "How was your lunch?"

Adrien smiled, brightly. "The best I've ever had."

Marinette felt inclined to agree.

#ladynoirjuly #ladynoirjuly2021 #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #ml fic #my stuff #miraculous ladybug #if we're bound to be something why not together

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drivingsideways · 4 years

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in search of a better dream

This is about three pieces of South Korean media that crossed my path recently: the dramas Search WWW and Flower of Evil, and the novel Kim Ji Young, Born 1982.

Disclaimer and context : I'm not Korean, I don't speak the language, and I've watched a very limited set of kdramas. The criticisms I make in this piece are not to single out kdramas, or kdrama fandom, as what I've described exists in Western and other Asian media and fandoms as well.

Under the cut for length:

There's a scene in the first episode of the hit 2020 k-drama "Flower of Evil" that made me want to quit watching the show within the first ten minutes. The scene goes like this: our protagonists, Cha Ji Won and Baek Hee Seung meet Baek Hee Seung's parents along with their four year old daughter. The occasion is Baek Hee Seung's birthday, and loving wife Cha Ji Won has set up a special birthday dinner for them. On the way to the restaurant, the daughter has already complained about how she's scared of her grandparents, and they don't like her. When we meet the grandparents, we see the truth of this- they are as cold as the Arctic to all three, but especially to their daughter-in-law and granddaughter. In a bid to smooth out the social awkwardness, Cha Ji Won instructs her daughter to greet her grandparents the way they had "practiced" earlier- a cutesy little greeting where the adorable Eun-ha makes a heart over her head and chirps "I love you grandma and grandpa". When this fails to soften them, Eun-ha retreats, looking scared and disappointed. Not to worry, Cha Ji Won has this completely figured out: if you try harder, she tells her four year old daughter, they'll eventually love you.

Reader, I was, as they say, mad.

We find out soon enough that this stellar bit of parenting follows from an abiding principle in Cha Ji Won's life. Her romance with Baek Hee Seung starts when a handsome oppa walks into the family store, and is a saga of her stalking and pursuing a man who repeatedly tells her he's not interested, until he finally gives in. The power of her persistence pays off when the emotionally distant and abrasive man, in a classic beauty-and-the-beast transition, becomes a loving boyfriend, and then later, husband and father. It's a fantasy- some might even say feminist fantasy come true- he's handsome, supportive, reliable, artistic, the primary housekeeper and caretaker of their daughter while she pursues her demanding "dream" job as a police officer, and they have enough money to live in a charming and lovingly set up two-storeyed house in ruinously expensive Seoul. This is heterosexual female wish fulfilment at its peak, and it is all made possible because she persevered.

It all threatens to come apart with the discovery of the perfect man's dark past- for a brief period, she's forced to contemplate the idea that he's actually a serial killer who's conned her for the entirety of their relationship of fourteen years; that the perfect life was, in fact, a lie.

However, since this is written and billed as romance melodrama, this horror is short-lived. As the story progresses through increasingly improbable, violent and sometimes downright hilarious twists and turns, we grow closer to the (inevitable) happy ending. Baek Hee Seung/ Do Hyun Soo is no killer, just a traumatized child with a horrific past. The lies are the result of psychological damage inflicted by a society that unfairly deemed him a monster; the cage of repressed emotions that he'd locked himself in needed only the unshakeable conviction of Cha Ji Won's love to be broken open. "I wish you could see yourself as I see you" she tells him, in one of the show's endless supply of tearfully emotional moments, "I wish you could understand yourself the way I understand you."

This framework continues right to the end, when a bout of short term amnesia (!!) has Do Hyun Soo questioning himself and her: do you know, he asks her, when I'm lying to you, and when I'm not, because I don't. The show answers that almost immediately- it doesn't matter, because it's her vision of him that he wants to be; in other words, he chooses the version of himself that she wants. The horror of the lie was a red herring, Cha Ji Won was right from the start about her husband- all it took was the power of her love and her perseverance to overcome the lie at the heart of her marriage, to restore it to its previous shape- quite literally. The dream house they built together, which was destroyed by the villain, is shown in the last shots as unchanged from how it was in the beginning. One of the last shots we have of the couple is of them kissing in the artisan husband's workshop, an almost perfect recreation of the first time we see them. Paradise Regained, and all of us- and Cha Ji Won- can breathe a sigh of relief. You, the twenty-first century woman, are the architect of your own fantasy and can have it all. What could be more powerful than that?

In Kim Ji Young, Born 1982 , a novel published in 2016, and often credited with kickstarting a new conversation about feminism in South Korea, the eponymous protagonist's story is also one of perseverance. It's a starkly written tale, an everywoman tale, a dryly narrated fact finding mission report complete with citations and references, about a woman born in the late twentieth century into a rigidly patriarchal culture, whose very existence is an aberration- her parents didn’t opt for a sex-selective abortion unlike many of their contemporaries when they found that their second child would also be a girl. Kim Ji Young, like the rest of us, grows up immersed in a misogynist culture. Even before she understands it, she learns to work around it and through it, rationalizing the micro-aggressions, burying the anger at the casual and institutional sexism that permeates her life, compromising and coping with it all, and achieving some semblance of having it all: a job, a decent, loving husband, a child. However, it's when motherhood arrives that it all falls apart- Kim Ji Young, faced with the exhausting carework of having a baby at home and another regular, full time job, does what so many women in her position do- quits her "outside" job for her parenting one. Fighting exhaustion and depression, a casually cruel and misogynist remark from a stranger in a park proves to be the proverbial final straw; Kim Ji Young suffers a mental breakdown, dissociating herself completely from her own life, and "seamlessly, flawlessly" taking on the personalities of other women she's known- her mother, her friend, her colleague. The novel ends with a narrative twist that's both horrifying and appropriate: we learn that our narrator is actually her male psychiatrist. Kim Ji Young doesn't even get to be the voice of her own story; instead, it is told by a man cocooned in his own privilege, who displays the same paternalistic and misogynist behaviour that he correctly identified as the cause of her breakdown.

There is no escape here for Kim Ji Young save that of a complete break from reality. In the light of the narrative that leads her to that point, it feels both inevitable and even more horrifically, a blessing. This is a horror story told as it is shorn of any hope; the ending is death or insanity.

Reading Kim Ji Young, Born 1982 was to confront the familiar and heart-breaking and horrific neatly distilled into 200 odd pages; it's "fiction", but not really. My only surprise was how similar the culture described there was to my own in specifics; how incidents in Kim Ji Young's life were things I had actually experienced myself or seen other women experience, in a country several thousand miles away.

I read this novel just after watching the 2019's Search WWW, a show with a bit of a cult following, I think. Before I started watching it, one friend assured me that I would love it, that it was made for me; another said that she dropped it because it "rang false" to her at the time. I've seen the show described several times as a feminist power fantasy, sometimes, if the reviewer wanted to demean it, with the qualifier, unrealistic.

This seemed an odd sort of criticism to me- after all, who turns to k-drama romances or really, any romance, for realism? Female wish fulfilment, which is the cornerstone of romance as a genre, whether in books or film, is still written and recognized as fantasy. So what was particularly unreal about Search WWW?

Well, simply put, it is written like the patriarchy doesn't matter, and has never existed.

The three female protagonists are all in their thirties, in powerful positions in their careers. As such, they are constantly walking into meetings where women speak more than 33% of the time. There are men in the room, but they never outnumber the women, and they don't silence the women.

The interests and decisions and choices of women in the show- even the lead antagonist, who is an older woman whom we often see casually making beefy young men pose nude for her paintings- matter, not just to domestic and private realms, but to society at large; the antagonist is a power broker whose reach goes right up to the highest echelons of the country's politics; the younger women's ethical choices directly affect the republic's functioning as a democracy.

What about the men? It's not that they've been ignored; it's just that their place in the narrative has been decentered. Do with that what you will, the writer seems to say, as she writes in speaking roles for women wherever possible—every second side character is a woman— I have no time or inclination to justify that choice.

As for romance- it's not just that two of the three romances fall into the "noona romance" category, which is subversive in itself. It's that the power of decision making in these relationships clearly rests with the women.

In the "main" romance track, in a reversal of the usual trope, the woman is the one who is emotionally unavailable, and whom the man has to convince to take a chance on their relationship. What was hugely refreshing was that the reason for her emotional unavailability isn't trauma, that the man has to help her heal from, unlike the gender reversed versions we often see, eg in Flower of Evil. Instead, it's a difference in perspective that has its roots in the years of experience she has compared to him; it's the difference in life perspective of a twenty something man, and an almost-40 woman. She considers the implications and possibilities of entering into a relationship with a man who wants marriage and kids, while she doesn't want either and is unlikely to want them in the future. She thinks through it, and sees the pitfalls of it, perhaps all too clearly. In the end, when she makes a decision to commit, it's with the understanding that she's choosing to live in the moment, that he makes her happy; that they make each other happy and it is worth something, even if it doesn't last. But both of them understand that her happiness is not centered in him or their relationship being successful. The other two romances end on a similarly open note- the possibility of love with the man you just divorced, but there's no hurry to get there; and a long distance relationship that may or may not last the two years of military conscription the man has to undergo.

The happily ever after in this series is not the perfect heterosexual family unit; it was always going to be the complicated, thorny and intense queerplatonic relationship between the three women, who, in the end, literally drive off along an endless open road under a blue, blue sky, to "a place with no red lights", as one of them describes it.

For a week after watching Search WWW, I wandered around in a daze. How did this show get written, I kept asking myself? How did it get produced? Aired??? What magic was worked to put it in my eyeballs, and how can it keep happening?

That feeling intensified when I read Kim Ji Young, Born 1982. But the book also provided the answer, at least to the first question. Because it is Kim Ji Young's voice in Search WWW. This is the fantasy that Kim Ji Young would have wanted to live in; a society and a life where she's seen as a person, entire, and it's not something she has to fight every day for. The gigantic leap of imagination that the writer of Search WWW took was only because that fantasy has been yearned for, in a way only a person growing up in Kim Ji Young's world- our world- could.

"Flower of Evil"- and other dramas like it— are also, undeniably, products of this world. It's unsurprising to me that in many ways, Cha Ji Won's little fantasy domestic world in Flower of Evil, on the surface, looks exactly like a post-feminist world. If the real revolution is men doing housework and childcare, then that fantasy has already been achieved on the individual level for Cha Ji Won. Sure, she's the only female member on her squad, and maybe the entire police force, for all you see women in her workplace. Sure, the other female characters with speaking roles exist mostly to be tortured for manpain by the narrative or literally by men as part of the plot. She seems to have no friends outside of work, which means that all her friends are men. As for relationships with other women, except her mother, who exists mostly to share the burden of childcare, and her mom-in- law who turns out to be an evil sort herself, there are none. When she meets her sister-in-law, the entire scene gives off a strange catfight vibe- her sister in law is the only other woman who can legitimately be said to have a claim on knowing the real Do Hyun Soo, and Cha Ji Won's reaction is to deny that claim and tell her to buzz off, basically. "I'm his family now" she tells her sister in law, "He has a wife"; firmly establishing the primacy of a heterosexual romantic relationship over all others.

Her "dream" job means nothing much despite the work she has put in to get it; for most part of the narrative she ends up betraying every professional ethic and her squad- her only friends. Of course, she is easily forgiven for it, without doing any of the work to earn that forgiveness, but that's really because who has the narrative time to develop those relationships which do not matter, like her work, which is shown up for the narrative prop it is, just like her daughter? Even her sociopath (but not really, poor baby) husband ends the series with a tentative sort of friendship with a person he's not married to, but not Cha Ji Won, whose entire world by the end of the series has narrowed down to the four walls of her perfect little house and her perfectly-rescued husband. "I can't be happy if he's not happy," she tells her mother, who suggests that maybe it's time she let go of her not-so-perfect husband. "So please accept him."

In the end, the fantasy is based on this : self-improvement as the winning strategy, not structural change. Try hard enough and you'll get what you want. In the fine print, easily ignored: as long as what you want falls within the bounds of heteronormative patriarchal standards. It's an attitude that is passed down to the next generation; Cha Ji Won's early conversation with her daughter is an example.

The writer's vision is clear- what could have been an interesting and intimate look at our deepest fears in a relationship- that the other person will see us for who we are and horror-struck, leave; or even a deconstruction of the heterosexual woman's fantasy of The Perfect Man, is instead a tired repetition of the Beauty-and-the-Beast trope. You can dress it up and put a gun-toting, career woman wig on it, but that disguise falls apart pretty quickly. Cha Ji Won openly states not once, but several times, that she would rather live the comfortable lie; it's only when even that isn't an option- and not because of her choice or agency, but circumstances and the man coming to a decision, that she begins to let go. But only for a little while- barely ten minutes in show time- because ultimately, this is a female wish fulfilment fantasy, isn't it? Her longsuffering perseverance is rewarded when he decides to mould himself to her fantasy version of him, and the past is erased, and time reset, complete with soft lighting and soaring soundtrack.

Some love stories are horror stories, but others are horror stories masquerading as love stories. Why are we so often sold the latter, and so accepting of the narrative gaslighting? When I look at the popularity of Search WWW vs Flower of Evil, I feel bitter despair and quite a lot of anger. Why do so many women- and it is women, who are producing this work, for women, primarily (I mean, romance, as a genre)- settle for so little? It's the twenty first century, I think, why are we still here, I rage, gnashing my teeth, and indulging in the vicious satisfaction of giving Flower of Evil a single star rating that will make not a dent in its popularity. If we can't demand and aspire to a better class of fantasy, what hope do we have? As you dream, so you will do.

I often think that these days feminism is made toothless because we're shaping it into something that will validate every little feeling of ours; we don't want to be made uncomfortable by it. But feminism is not meant to make anyone comfortable; interrogating your own desires and pleasures is as much a part of smashing the patriarchy as fighting for fundamental human rights like bodily autonomy.

I guess, in the end, what I want to say is this: for the love of sanity, dream better.

#flower of evil #search: www #kim ji young born 1982 #unpopular opinions cw

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cecilspeaks · 4 years

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175 - The October Monologues

[static] [slightly distorted] The trees are dying again. You know it, I know it. The trees know it. They have known it for decades, centuries in some cases. The shiver of cyclic, symbolic death. A rattle in the cold night air. A rustle in the footsteps of a hungry deer. It is October and something is different. It is October and the trees draw the crackling red and orange curtain in the year’s final act. It is October, and so listeners, dear listeners, Night Vale community radio is proud to introduce The October Monologues.

Faceless Old Woman: I am lonely. Oh, I see people. I see lots of people every day. I see you right now. I see you, Caleb, sitting in your rolling desk chair, hunched over your computer. I am a faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, watching you download yet another video game, Caleb.

But seeing people and being with people are different things. Different ideas altogether. I miss touch most of all. A father’s hand, a friend’s arms. A lover’s chest. I still touch, am touched, but it is not the same. It is not a mutual touch. My touch is unwelcome, unfriendly, unwanted. Yet I touch because I love.

And I love you, Caleb. I do. I know you don’t believe me after what I did to you tonight, but I do. My love is not romantic nor maternal. It’s not platonic, either. I love you the way a deer loves a cornfield. It is safe, it is nourishing. It is in its DNA to want to be there, to hide, to eat, to play. You’re very much like a cornstalk, Caleb. You are loved and you are benign. Better than benign, you are a contribution to this world. The cornstalk is unaware that a deer loves it so much that it will bend it and stomp it until its edible morsels spill out from its crumpled empty husk. The cornstalks, there are so many cornstalks, do not understand that they are so loved by the deer as to be devoured.

You’ve seen a kitten before, Caleb, I know you have. Sometimes kittens are so cute. So so so so cute that you wanna put them in your mouth. Do you understand that kind of love, Caleb, that kind of touch? You do not, no one does. And this is why I’m lonely. But I think you know that. You’re different. You’re lonely too. That’s not what makes you different, we’re all lonely in our own way.

You’re different, Caleb, because you know I am here. You see me even when I do not want to be seen. No one has been able to do that in at least 200 years. Sometimes you speak to me. Not in terror, not in rage; I’ve heard many of these voices in my life from those who feared and detested my presence. No, you ask me my name. I won’t tell you, not yet. You tell me about your day, I’m sorry your new boss is so mean, I will rectify this. And last night, you prepared a dinner for me. You’re not a good cook, I can smell that much, but it was your gesture of generosity that touched me. You made cashio e pepe, a recipe you learned from TikTok, and you prepared a bowl just for me. You waited to see if I would appear, and when I did not, you told me you understood wanting to eat alone, so you left it for me on the dining room table, as you went to play the new flight simulator.

Few men have ever been this kind to me before being frightened into it first, or without using their kindness as a disguise. I think you genuinely understand your own quiet desperation among the mass of men. And in turn, you understand others too. I don’t trust the kindness of men, Caleb. I don’t trust the kindness of women, either. Or anyone else’s kindness, to be truthful, but I especially don’t trust men’s kindness. There are exceptions. Andre, whose kindness was loyalty and honesty, and Albert, although his was a much different kind of kindness.

But Caleb, 23-year-old, unshaven, video game loving, boss hating aimless Caleb, your kindness frightens me. I’m scared of what you want, what it is you plan to take from me. Kind men have stolen my childhood, my morals, my money, my love, my life, and my family. What will you take from me, Caleb, that I have not already lost? I’m afraid. I’m afraid to respond to your gentle bait of friendship, because I am afraid you will take my loneliness from me. I am lonely, and that is a choice I have made for myself.

One day, Caleb, you will die. I know exactly when. It will not be of my hand, although I will do nothing to stop it. It is my fate, my path, to know such things. And in your death, you will return my loneliness to me, and it will be a horror to behold, bloody and misshapen. My loneliness, not recognizing its former owner, will howl an unholy and unceasing cry, and I will not be able to bear it.

This is what I fear, Caleb, and this is why I took the bowl of cashio e pepe you left for me and hurled it against the wall, just missing your cheek. I’m not sad that you screamed at me, I’m happy that you did so. This is how it has to be. We are not enemies, Caleb, no no. I love you deeply. Deeper than you can know. I am your deer Caleb, and you are my corn.

Cecil: The fiery flash of fall leaves stuns us, captivates us. Fireworks in slow motion. Or the crackling embers of a finishing flame. Upon the leaves are written instructions for how to make oxygen, how to give life, with every exhalation. How to find flair in fading grace, and how to raise new life by falling to your death. The leaves know they will return again, so much will return again. We return now to the October Monologues.

Michelle Nguyen: There’s this new song I like, but I don’t wanna tell you what it is. I find it kind of embarrassing. Usually I love to talk about my favorite music. There was that summer I was obsessed with the new single by Saint Vincent. The single came in the form of a glazed vase containing three blue flowers. Only one was ever made, and I got the only copy. I found it very catchy, but the flowers eventually died. Or the year I spent listening over and over to that new Janelle Monae album. I forget the name, but the cover was a black and white picture of a well, and if you didn’t share it with someone else in 7 days, you would die. Of course no one ever died, because the album was so good, people just couldn’t stop telling their friends to listen.

My favorite song of all time is a blank cassette tape still in its plastic wrapper. It was owned by a man named Gary Joy. He was a real estate lawyer, reasonably successful, but he always dreamed of being a singer/songwriter. He dreamed all the time of quitting his job and writing songs, but he had never even written one song. Then one day, in a fit of optimism and energy, he bought this cassette, intending to make his first memo. But the day got away from him, and then the week, and then the rest of his life, and he never quit being a lawyer, and he never even wrote one song. This blank cassette tape, still in its wrapper, contains the potential of all the songs he could have written but never did, which is better and more powerful than any song anyone’s actually managed to write. The potential of the thing is always more perfect than the reality of the thing. However, and this is the crucial drawback, the potential is absolutely useless and the reality, however imperfect, can be quite useful. Anyway, I like to hold Gary Joy’s unwritten demo and imagine what it would be like. Hold on, sorry. There’s a customer.

[bell dings] Welcome to Dark Owl Records. What? No, no. No. No! No. OK, bye! [bell dings] Sorry about that. Some people are so unreasonable. I don’t even know what a Taylor Swift is.

But there’s a new song I like, and it’s not cool like my other favorite songs. It’s not a song that fits the kind of image I like to project. When I put on my mirrored leggings, my extra long jorts, and my really big hat, people expect something from me. They expect me to be on the cutting edge. They expect me only to be into bands that aren’t popular yet, or will never be popular, or that frankly don’t know how to play their instruments very well. And the song I like now is not any of those things. It’s… ordinary. It’s… popular. I don’t wanna say what it is. Remember when I only listened to the sound of beez buzzing? That was a good summer. Of course I got stung once or twice or 30 times. [sighs] Hold on, sorry, there’s a customer.

[bell dings] Welcome to Dark Owl Records! Hey. Hey! Hey! Hey! HEEEEY! Thanks, nice to see you again. [bell dings] Sorry about that.

I’m tired of being cool. I was going to say trying to be cool, but trying implies the possibility of failure, and there has never been a moment when I’ve failed to be cool. But here’s the hard truth I’ve come up against: being cool is a young person’s game. And that’s not because young people are better or more interesting than older people. God no. God no. God no! It’s that coolness itself is a concept tied to youth. Coolness is a reactionary manifestation of insecurity. The more insecure you are, the cooler you need to be. It’s colorful plumage. But as I’ve gotten older, I no londer need flashy plumage. I just wanna sit in the comfort of who I am, and not worry about what that looks like from the outside.

Anyway, I can’t stop listening to “Karma Police” by Radiohead. It’s just… a good song, you know? Hold on, sorry, there’s a customer.

[bell dings] You! You’ll never catch me alive! [sound of running] [bell dings]

Cecil: An abundance of words, words falling, fluttering to the earth. Words crunching beneath our feet. They were beautiful once, the words. Now they are beginning to rot, to wilt, to compost, to ferment new growth. To fertilize new words growing upon great trunks of paragraphs and chapters, but not now. Those will come later. Now the words sputter and drop in spiraling arcs to the ground. Here, then, are the final few brightly painted words falling upon you now. The October Monologues.

Steve Carlsberg: What does it mean to be believed? I’ve always known that Night Vale isn’t like other places. As long as I can remember, I could see that. I could also see that no one else could see it. I was alone in my knowledge. Knowledge may be power, but power is often lonely. My grandfather knew. He could see that I was like him. “Steve,” he would say, “us Carlsbergs have always been the town pariahs, but just because they hate you, doesn’t mean they’re right.” I would sit at night as a kid and listen to Cecil on the radio. He was the same age as he is now, and at the time he seemed so wise. But I would hear him dismiss what I knew shouldn’t be dismissed. I would hear him cover up what should be uncovered, and I would know with a child’s certainty that it was wrong. I loved him still. Everyone in town loves Cecil. It is possible to love someone who you know is doing wrong. It’s terribly easy, in fact.

What does it mean to be believed? As a teenager, I started trying to express what I saw about the world. I gave a presentation in my social studies class called “Night Vale – there’s literally nowhere like it”, and I thought it was informative. The class all plugged their ears in unison. The teacher stopped me a minute in, glancing nervously at the 8 surveillance cameras monitoring the classroom. “Are you trying to get us all killed?” the teacher hissed at me. I remember that her breath smelled like Strawberry Jolly Ranchers, and there was a lose crumb of mascara in the sweat of her temples. “No,” I said. I didn’t know what to say. It’s not the kind of question that demands a sincere answer. The report earned me a trip to the principal’s office, and then the re-education pit, which honestly is not as bad as its name. I mean, almost not as bad. It’s pretty bad. It’s a pit, for re-education. So, certainly learned something from that re-education. I learned that you’re equally likely to be punished for being right as you are for being wrong.

What does it mean to be believed? I was a young man entering the workforce, and I had long ago learned to hide away what I knew about my city. I had learned the handshake and the smile, the nod and the necktie, all the signifiers that hid what I truly signified. All of life is a code, and I had been thought the key against my will.

I got a job as a bank teller at the Last Bank of Night Vale. I studied with great interest the townsfolk who came and went there. I learned about their lives and their secrets, and what kind of money they made for the whispered deals out back of quiet parking lots just before the sun went down, pulled up next to a black Sedan that contained their handler who they only knew by a false first name. but I couldn’t forget what I knew, even if I learned to playact that I had. What I know shapes who I am. I can’t close my eyes, not to this town I love. This weird and secret town I love.

What does it mean to be believed? Then I married into the family of Cecil Palmer, host of Night Vale community radio! And he hated me, because he could see that I knew. And after all these years, my mask had slipped a little. I’d lost my interest in hiding. I wanted to speak the truth as I knew it, nothing could be more threatening to Cecil. His life and livelihood depended on speaking the truth as the City Council wanted it. Or as the Vague yet Menacing government agencies crafted it. And here I was, pointing out to him the sky. There are glowing arrows in the sky, there are dotted lines and arrows and circles. The sky is a chart that explains the entire world! I tried to tell him, and this only made him hate me more. I tried to share who I was with him, and this only made him recoil.

Abby listened to my stories, but she never shared my enthusiasm for the truth. “Let it lie,” she would say, “let it lie.” But that’s he point, I can’t let it lie and I can’t lie! We’ve done that for too long! We’ve let our town sit heavy under the weight of euphemism and half truth, and unless someone just said what they saw for once, we would be crushed eventually by that weight!

And then it all changed. I wasn’t alone. The others saw that we lived in a weird place. And you know what? We kept existing. Our world didn’t end merely because we dared acknowledge it. Cecil and I are friends now. I haven’t forgotten how he treated me, but I understand it and I forgive it. Forgiveness and understanding are not the same as forgotten.

What does it mean to be believed? It means everything. It means all.

Cecil: And as the leaves are done, so are the October Monologues. All that can be said has been said. And all that can be said will be said again.

Today’s proverb: Listen, it might seem like everything’s bad right now.

#welcome to night vale #welcome to night vale transcripts #episode 175 #the october monologues #sorry again for being so tardy #was swamped at work #but here it is

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where-theres-smoak-2 · 3 years

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S&B Book Review From A Show Viewer.

I did it, I got the Shadow and Bone book yesterday and I’ve just finished it. I have to say the ending left me both shocked and flabbergasted and not necessarily in a good way but I will get into why soon. I don’t want people to think that I thought the book was bad because its not, I thought it was ok, I mean its not my favourite fantasy novel but I still enjoyed parts of it. I think the best way I can describe my feelings about it is you know when a film comes out that’s based on a novel they always say watch the film before you read the books or the film will disappoint you, well I feel like its the other way round with the books, I just think the show is better than the book, and by watching the show first I was a little disappointed with the book and I do think if I had read the book first I would have enjoyed it more if that makes sense. But like I said there were parts of the book that I enjoyed there were even some things that I think were handled better in the book than in the show. But overall in my opinion I do think that the show is better. So in this review/ comparison I am going to talk first about the parts that I wasn’t so keen on then the parts I liked as I like to end on a good note. Also let it be known I have only read the first book and obviously there are spoilers for both the first book and the show. The rest is under the cut.

Dislikes.

1) The Characters.

So when I got half way through the book there was something about it that just didn't feel right to me and I couldn’t, at first, put my finger on what it was. For some reason I just wasn’t enjoying the book as much as I thought I would. Then it hit me, I didn’t really like any of the characters. In the show I loved or at least liked pretty much every character. For example Marie and Nadia, although they were only side characters who didn’t get much screen time, I liked them, they seemed like such sweethearts. But in the books Alina describes them as being two faced, how they are all sweet to Zoya to her face but then are mean behind her back and Alina wonders if they are the same with her and she doesn’t really seem to trust them. Whereas in the show like I said they seemed genuinely sweet and it seemed like Alina really was friends with them. Another example is Dubrov and Mikhael. They are only really in like a paragraph or two of the book and they aren’t nice at all. In the show they were lovable goofs, their friendship with Mal is soo wholesome and we see Alina meet them for the first time. However in the books Alina already knows them and they refer to her as ‘sticks’ which she hates and she also thinks about how Mikhael had once ‘pawed at her’ whilst drunk. The reason why I think their show counterparts are better (other than they just seem to be nicer human beings) is because I liked them I was sad when they died. I was upset when Marie died. I cried when Mikhael and Dubrov died, because I cared about their characters. Whereas in the books to be honest I really couldn’t have cared less when I learnt that they had died.

Even the main characters didn’t do much for me. It’s not that I didn't like them I just didn't love them the same way I did in the show. I can understand now why so many people dislike book Mal. He is barely in the first book, in the beginning its not that he’s a bad person but its obvious that Alina feels ignored by him and he’s a little oblivious to her, its the classic taking a friend for granted until you lose them and then realise how much they meant to you situation. I think the fact that we don’t see any of what Mal is up to whilst they are separated doesn’t do any favours for the character in the book. When he does show up he is cold and actually kind of mean to Alina. I do believe that alot of this is because he is traumatised by witnessing the deaths of his friends but I will get into that more later. As for Alina and the Darkling again I didn’t dislike them I think out of all the characters they were the most interesting but I didn’t feel that same connection with them that I did in the show. Basically there wasn’t a single character where I had that I love this character moment, I was just kind of meh about them all.

2) Alina’s Age and Agency.

Another thing that the show did better in my opinion was aging Alina up and giving her more agency. In the book she is only 17 and I think you can tell that. She is much more timid and dare I say whiny in the book. I mean she comes across as a teenage girl which is what she is so it’s not the books fault she was written as she was supposed to be. But after seeing her show counterpart who wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself and defended Mal the book Alina seemed like a different character, one that I felt like I just didn’t know and one that I didn’t love as much as the show version. I mean in the show Alina shows these moments of defiance. Like when she is first brought to the General’s tent and he asks ‘well’ and she replies ‘well what’ before remembering who she is talking to and adding ‘sir’. Again when the Queen in making the comments about her being Shu and asks her maid to say good morning to her. And so Alina tells the queen she doesn’t actually speak Shu before again remembering who she is talking to and adding ‘your highness’. When Mal is being bullied at the orphanage and she threatened the bully with I think it was a letter opener. She has this kind of snarky, sassiness about her that I didn’t really get in the books. Also I feel like Alina had alot more agency in the show. Like burning the maps to get on the skiff. It was a terrible idea no doubt, but it was her doing something to get herself on the skiff so she could help her friend. In the books their unit is ordered to cross the fold from the beginning, Alina has nothing to do with her being on the skiff. Also with her relationship with The Darkling, Alina is mostly nervous around him and he is the one that initiates all their kisses. Whereas in the show Alina is the one to kiss him first. I do feel like in the book Alina is more kind of pushed and pulled around by the plot or by other characters and doesn’t really do much for herself. Like another example is when Baghra reveals that The Darkling is the Black Heretic in the book she has this whole plan for Alina’s escape which is for her to go to Os Kervo and board a ship where her passage has already been paid for and in the book Alina just goes with it, whereas in the show we see her decide not to take Baghra’s instructions and escapes herself, her own way, again it might not have been the best choice seeing as she puts herself right into The Crows hands but it is her choice. Even the decision to go after the Stag isn’t hers in the books. It’s Mal’s. There was one decision that Alina did make for herself and it was one part of the book that I think I hated the most which I will get into later.

I do like that she is older in the show as I feel like I personally can relate more to her as an adult as oppose to a teenager. Its also fresher because there are so many of these young adult fantasy adaptions where the heroines are 16-18 years old and that nice but you are still a young adult in your early twenties and so I think its a nice change to see a slightly older heroine if that makes sense.

3) The Darkling’s name and Novokribirsk.

Well I know this one is not going to make me popular with the book fans but I really didn’t like that no one knew the Darkling’s name or rather that he didn’t have a name really. I know his name reveal is a big deal to book fans and that was one thing they didn’t like about the show and maybe if I had read the book first I would have agreed. But I personally, having learnt his name in the show, found it difficult seeing everyone refer to him as The Darkling because in the show it is only really used by his enemies and always in a derogatory way and as a slur, everyone else just calls him The Black General or General Kirigan. I also think the fact that he does have a name in the show makes him a little more human. The other difference between the show and the book is Novokribirsk. In the show although I didn’t necessarily agree with him expanding the Fold into Novokribirsk I understood his reasons behind it, his motivations. But the West Ravkan rebels plot doesn’t exist in the book and so I just couldn’t understand why he was killing his own people, why he was killing Ravkans. If he had expanded the Fold into Fjerda or Shu Han I would have understood but Novokribirsk made no sense. I am sure I am wrong about this but I kind of felt like Bardugo was trying to be shocking and trying to show look he’s a villain but it just didn’t line up with the rest of his character. Like he is power hungry yes but he also cares about the Grisha and the Ravkans and so him turning on the people of his own country with no motivation at all didn’t make sense to me. Instead of feeling shocked I just felt kind of confused by his actions.

4) The Reveal That Genya Is A Spy.

This is another one where I feel like if I had read the books first it wouldn’t have bugged me so much. But one of the more powerfully emotional scenes for me in the show was that conversation between Genya and Alina in episode 7 where Alina realises that Genya was Kirigan’s spy. It is heartbreaking to see these two friends fall apart like this and you can see both of their sides. You can understand why Alina feels betrayed but you can also understand why Genya did it. But in the book the scene just isn’t that emotional. Alina realises that Genya is a spy but whilst we see her thoughts and her processing it she doesn’t confront Genya about it. Instead Genya tells Alina that David feels terrible about putting the collar on her and that he feels like he has destroyed all of Ravka. As Genya leaves Alina calls after her asking her to tell David she forgives him and then she silently, in her head, forgives Genya too. I just was disappointed in this scene when I read it. I do think this is just another thing that was handled better in the show.

5) Mal and Alina’s Sudden Romance.

Ok I’m not hating on Mal and Alina here I actually think (well more in the show than the book) that their relationship is cute, I don’t hate the relationship its just that I prefer Darklina. But in the book I was actually really shocked when they kissed. For me I feel like it was a little jarring and I would have preferred if their kiss had come in the second book. I think the problem is it just felt like there was no development. I mean we had Alina spending the majority of the book lamenting about how Mal doesn’t like her back and only sees her as a friend. We barely see Mal in the book at all and then all of a sudden they don’t just kiss but are confessing their undying love for each other and I was just left with my head in a bit of spin at how fast that change came. But hey maybe it was just me. I do think part of the problem is that we only get Alina’s pov so that makes it come as more of a surprise. But they went from just friends to intense burning love in 0.1 seconds flat and for me it was just too much of a rush. I just wish it had been built up a bit slower as I felt like they got to the whole I love you’s a bit too quick. Even if they had their first kiss at the very end of the book and then continued to build the relationship in book 2 and have the love confessions then I think it would have been a bit more believable to me.

6) Shaming Alina.

Ok so there were a couple of times where I felt like other characters were shaming Alina for having feelings for The Darkling and for falling for his manipulation. Of course I could be misinterpreting this but I didn’t like the connotations behind these lines. The first was when Baghra is organising for Alina to escape and Baghra tells her she’ll organise for a servant to be placed at Alina’s door who will claim she is ill so that Alina has more time to get away. When Alina tells her the servant would have to be placed this evening as The Darkling may come to her room and Baghra replies with ‘foolish girl’. Obviously this makes Alina feel ashamed and even more foolish for falling for The Darkling’s manipulation. Here’s the thing I don’t mind Alina feeling foolish I think that’s realistic, I think any of us would feel like a fool if we were in the same situation. What I don’t like is the author having other character’s call her foolish for being manipulated by someone. I just don’t think its the healthiest of lessons to teach to young girls that if you are unfortunate enough to be manipulated by a a man than girl are you a fool. I don’t necessarily think it was the author’s intention to present it that way but I do think that is a message that a young girl could take away from this, I mean if I can interrupt it this way than others could too.

I felt a similar way with Mal’s line when he says ‘I love you, Alina, even the part of you that loved him.’ Look I’m sure that this line was suppose to be romantic and show acceptance. But it bothered me, it really really bothered me. It bothered me because once again it is suggesting that Alina should be ashamed that she had feelings for the Darkling, it presents Mal as being this oh so righteous person because look at him he loves her even though she once loved The Darkling. It suggests that its harder for him to love her because she loved the darkling and like she has to be forgiven for it or as if she has been tainted by it. It wasn’t Alina’s fault that she developed feelings for The Darkling or that she was manipulated by him. And Mal isn’t a better person for loving her even though she loved The Darkling, he shouldn’t get extra brownie points for loving all of her unconditionally.

7) Alina Is A Murderer!!!

Ok so this is the part of the book that shocked the hell out of me but also left me utterly confused and I hated it, I really hated it. I’m also kind of baffled as to how I’ve not seen anyone talking about this. I mean maybe I am over-reacting but I have only just finished the book so it is still pretty fresh. But there is a huge difference between the ending of the first book and the ending of the series and that is what happens in The Fold. So first off Mal doesn’t sneak on to the skiff he is there because the Darkling is planning to execute him as a traitor by feeding him to the Volcra. The other thing is there are alot more people on the skiff, you’ve got the ambassadors from Fjerda and Shu Han, you’ve got Kerch Merchants, you’ve got an envoy for the King, you’ve got a ton of Grisha and their are also a ton of soldiers, all on this skiff. The darkling also never has Ivan kill the ambassadors they don’t try to fight back against him after he expands the Fold. What does happen is this, The Darkling throws Mal overboard and this is what triggers Alina being able to free herself and her power from The Darkling’s control. She then abandons ship and jumps off the skiff to Mal and leaves everyone who is onboard to die. Which in itself is bad enough but that's not all she does. She doesn’t just leave them without her light to protect them she uses the cut to destroy the skiff, she damages the mast and also cuts the skiff in half essentially stranding them there without any way of escaping. She does this knowing that they will all die.

I know what some of you will say. How can you be mad about Alina doing this when the Darkling has killed people and you still like him. Well first off because The Darkling is the anti hero in the show whose motivations I understood and well I’ve already said I wasn’t a huge fan of his actions with Novokribirsk in the books. Also with him being the antagonist I know he’s going to do things that are morally grey or downright dark. I don’t however expect it from my hero of the story. Also I wouldn’t have cared as much if Alina had a valid reason for doing it. Like she was sacrificing these people to safe a larger number of people or something like that where she was in some kind of moral conundrum where sacrificing the people on the skiff was for the greater good, if it was for example a situation like Clarke from the 100 and the Mountain Men, what she did was terrible and definitely morally grey but she did it to save her people and that’s what made it interesting to see her struggle with the guilt of it, to be horrified at what she had done but understand that it was a difficult decision for her that needed to be made for her peoples survival. Or even if it were a similar situation to Katniss and Finnick in Mockingjay where she knew she couldn’t save him so had to make the choice to sacrifice him to stop the mutts from coming after the rest of them. But that’s not what was happening here with Alina, she does it to save Mal. And look I get it. Mal is her childhood friend, and Mal is the person she loves, Mal is her home. But Mal is also one person and she probably could have found a way to save him without sacrificing everyone else to do it you know like she does in the show. It’s not even just the leaving them behind bit that gets to me but I just don’t think it was necessary for her to break the ship. It was one thing to take her light from them and use it to protect only her and Mal, but at least if she had left the skiff unscathed they would have had a chance to survive.

I mean maybe I am just have too much of a rigid idea of what a hero is suppose to be or gotten too used to heroines being a certain way but the difference between the hero and the villain is that whilst the villain does everything for themselves and is usually very selfish the hero is supposed to be selfless. They are suppose to think of the greater good and put that above all else, they make personal sacrifices and that doesn’t necessarily mean not protecting their loved ones but it also doesn’t mean leaving innocent people to die just so that you can save one person, regardless of how important that person is to you.

I mean I feel like we are being told that Alina is this saviour and that she is the hero but then the character isn’t acting like the hero. I mean she doesn’t seem to care about anybody but Mal and yet she is still very judgemental of the Darkling even though he is trying to save his people albeit in completely the wrong way.

I mean one thing I will say is that she does recognise that what she has done makes her like The Darkling. She also does have guilt about it and nightmares but I found it hard to have sympathy for her because I just didn’t think it was necessary for her to do it.

I don’t know maybe I’ll feel differently about it in a few days after I’ve processed it more but at the moment I feel strangely betrayed by the book like they’ve taken one of my favourite characters and ruined her. Which I know is silly because the books came first but I just can’t help but think my show Alina would never. She saved Mal and everyone on the skiff.

Grey Area

Ok so this section is an odd one, so this is things that I’m not sure how I feel about them I liked some bits but also didn’t like some bits.

1) Alina’s POV

So the book is told entirely from Alina’s pov and to be honest I am of two minds as to whether that's a good thing or a bad. I mean most YA fantasy novels are told from the heroine’s pov like The Hunger Games or Divergent. So this is something that can work, but in the case of Shadow and Bone I feel like having it solely from Alina’s pov was at the detriment of the other characters. I feel like because Alina doesn’t like alot of the other characters or has negative thoughts about alot of the other characters the reader also doesn’t like them. On the flip side of this it does very much put you in Alina’s shoes so it helps you better understand that isolation she feels and that not really trusting people, doubting them. You can understand her struggle to connect with people and how she always wonders if they really do like her or if they have an ulterior motive. There is this one part earlier on in the book where she talks about how people, in particular girls, would befriend her but it was only because she was friends with Mal and they were interested in him, so they used her to get close to him. I think this really does explain why she struggles to trust people when she gets to the Little Palace as she automatically assumes that if they are trying to be friends with her its because they want something from her. Because you can see her thoughts you also get a really good idea of how insecure she feels and how much she wants to be accepted. Like there are several parts where its obvious that she wants to please The Darkling, or she wants to impress Baghra or Botkin. She worries about how the other summoners will react if they find out she is struggling with her powers. There is one scene I loved where Alina is finally able to summon on her own and she just rushes outside to the lake where all the other summoners are to show off her powers because she is just so excited. All of this where its exploring Alina’s thoughts and feelings is great and well written but I think the problem of having it from her pov is although you get a good idea of Alina and how she feels, first impressions are also important and we get all of our first impressions of the other characters through Alina. However Alina doesn’t really like anybody, so when she talks about how mean Dubrov and Mikhael are and how they call her names and ignore her, or when she talks about Mal not really seeing her and taking her for granted, or when she thinks about how two faced Marie and Nadia are, how grumpy Ivan is, how intimidating and mysterious The Darkling is, and so on, these impressions of the character stick with the reader and so I think it is then hard for the reader to change their view on these characters, if that makes sense. So in some ways the first person narrative is great but in others I think it is a little bit of a problem.

2) Mal’s Reaction To Alina And The Darkling/ Their Reunion.

Ok so this might be a controversial one but I’m kind of split on which of Mal’s reactions I prefer. I know that seems crazy considering how mean he is to Alina in the books when they see each other again for the first time since she is discovered to be Grisha, but hear me out. On the one side I liked how non judgemental show Mal was when Alina admits that she had feelings for Aleksander. I liked that he said she didn’t owe him an explanation because its true she doesn’t, just like he doesn’t owe her an explanation for any relationships he’s had. So in that sense I think the show did it better.

In the books their reunion doesn’t go so well. Mal shows up at the Little Palace having found the Stag and unlike in the show he does speak with Alina. But its a very negative interaction where he gets angry about her wearing black and talks about how the Darkling is all over her and just in general makes her feel bad about this new life she has found as a Grisha. Obviously I didn’t enjoy this scene but there was one element of this whole reunion that I did like and that is Mal’s trauma. In the show they don’t really address the trauma Mal experiences at seeing his friends die beyond a small conversation with Alina where he tells her what happened to them. But in the book during this scene and then later when they are travelling to find the Stag together Alina notes a few times that he sometimes gets a look in his eyes or that he seems different. There is a notable change in him due to what has happened to him and I feel like this gives some depth to the character. Yes he acts like a dick to Alina but its because of his trauma.

Likes

Ok on to the good stuff, things that I loved from the books.

1) Grisha Powers And Amplifiers.

So I’ll be honest the books do a better job of explaining the Grisha abilities and the amplifiers than the show does. So in the show they do have that line about the small science feeds us and merzost feeds on us. Well in the book this is better explained and you find out that a Grisha gets stronger and healthier the more they use their powers. Whilst in the show Alina tricks the testers by cutting her hand, in the book she actually supresses her powers. As a result this makes her ill, she always has circles under her eyes and she has no appetite so she is really skinny. I really like this idea that instead of draining them like most fantasy powers do in other series it actually makes them stronger. I thought it was a very interesting concept. It also explains why Baghra looks to have aged despite being immortal like The Darkling. In the book when Alina asks The Darkling what powers Baghra has he replies that it had been so long since she had used them that no one knew. So it seems like the reason why Baghra has aged is because she isn’t summoning.

The other thing that we get more information about in the books is the use of amplifiers. Morozova’s creatures aren’t the only amplifiers other Grisha do have them for example Ivan has a bear claw and Marie has a seal amplifier. I think Zoya also has an amplifier. We also find out that a Grisha usually can only have one amplifier.

2) Ivan’s Backstory

Ok this is probably a small thing but I really wish they had kept Ivan’s backstory in the show. He lost family to the Fjerdans, if I remember rightly I think it was his father, brother and uncle. Though correct me if I am wrong on that. But this has obviously had an impact on him and he says they died fighting the King’s wars. It just really goes a long way to explain why Ivan is so loyal to The Darkling. Its because he believes the Darkling will end all wars and seeing as Ivan has lost a large portion of his family to war it makes sense that he would stand by the Darkling.

3) Alina’s Time At The Little Palace.

So another thing the books did better than the show was showing the time and training that Alina goes through. In the show it only seems like Alina is at the Little Palace for a few weeks but she is actually there for at least five months if not more. You also see her struggle with her powers and combat training more and you see her starting to get better at both. In the show by the end of episode 4 she can summon on her own and she has that break through but it takes alot longer in the books. But yeah I would have loved to see more of her training.

4) Baghra and The Darkling.

So this isn’t really something the book does better but it was a scene that I really liked and that was where Alina arrives to her lesson with Baghra and The Darkling is there and she is surprised that Baghra is arguing with him. Whilst we do get the interaction between Baghra and Aleksander in the show which I did really like, Alina herself never sees the two interact and I think it would have been interesting if she had. I just wish in general that we had gotten more interactions between the mother and son. The other thing I liked was during the scene where Baghra is helping Alina escape Alina question why Baghra would be betraying her son. One thing I did wonder when watching the show was if Baghra knew all this information about Aleksander and how he wanted to expand the fold and if she really did believe he was power hungry, why did she stay by his side. Well the book does give an answer to this and she says she loves her son that’s why she is trying to stop him because she doesn’t want him to cross a line he can’t come back from. I do feel like this adds more depth and complexity to their relationship which I am always glad for. I can’t wait to learn more of their backstory.

5) Alina’s Mirrored Gloves.

In the books the gloves David makes for Alina are used alot more. They are also described as being mirrored whereas in the tv show they looked more like gold chainmail. Also she gets them sooner in the books. But they’re really cool and she uses them to like distract or blind her opponent during hand to hand combat. Also I really like the scene when they are introduced because its basically Genya giving Alina a tour and they go to the Fabrikator workshop and when Genya introduces David he’s working on the gloves and he just goes these are for you. It’s awkward but also funny.

6) Genya and David.

You get so much more of their relationship in the books. Well by so much more I mean Genya does talk to Alina about David. As a result we get one of my favourite interactions in the book where they are having a girly talk and Alina tries to reassure Genya that David will come around and that he’s just shy, then Genya says ‘“Maybe I should lie down on a table in the workroom and wait to see if he welds something to me.” To which Alina says “I think that’s the way most great love stories begin.” I don’t know why but I just loved this I think its because its just two girls talking about a crush and I think its very relatable. But yeah Genya and David are very cute.

7) Tidemakers.

So one of the things I wished we could have seen in the show was the tidemakers using their powers. We get told about them and obviously they can control water but we never see one. Well in the books we do get Tidemakers using their powers and we get Alina describing them to us. There is a particularly cool scene that happens at the winter fete where tidemakers create this wave as part of the Grisha demonstration that then gets turned into mist by inferni. It wasn’t much but I still enjoyed getting a little glimpse of them using their powers.

Ok that’s all I can think of for now, I’m sure I’ll think of more once I’ve had more time to process the book. But overall I thought it was ok I am interested to see where the characters go from here. I ordered the second book already and its due to arrive tomorrow so looking forward to that. As for this book if I gave it a rating I’d say its probably a 6/10 I thought it was good but there were some things about it that I think it could have done better with.

#shadow and bone

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josjournal · 4 years

Text

Just the Beginning (Full Moon Ficlet #397 - Prediction)

Written for @fullmoonficlet

Derek stood at the edge of the fairgrounds, eyes tracing over the various tents set up and the people in renaissance costumes mixed in with those in modern-day garb. He knew it was a mistake to agree to meet Boyd and Erica here after his classes were done for the week, but he hadn’t seen his friends in almost a month between his senior dissertation and the classes he TA’d for. He was amazed he was still standing by that point but he’d had too many cups of coffee to get him through the day in order to come here and be surrounded by people.

He checked his phone again to see if there were any updates from Boyd and Erica but the notification screen was empty except for one from YouTube letting him know that one of the few channels he was subscribed to was updated. His thumb hovered over the notification before swiping over it and leaning against the post in the parking lot to watch the video.

The video was a mix of ASMR, spirituality, and predictions. Derek had stumbled onto the channel one day when he was having trouble sleeping and googled ASMR having heard it helps people fall asleep. A female hand dug through a crystal bowl filled with scraps of paper and crystals, the noise starting the tingles up Derek’s arms.

He waited as the chosen pieces of paper and crystals were laid out in pairs and then following the instructions he paused the video and closed his eyes, picturing the stones and choosing the one that called to him. He’d felt a bit silly the first time he’d done it but the message that had gone along with the stone he’d picked had hit home perfectly for exactly what was keeping him up that night, so he’d subscribed to the channel and every Friday went through this same process when the channel updated.

The messages weren’t always as relatable as that first one but he could usually find something to draw comfort from or to apply to his life in some way or another. His mind focused on the frozen image of a rainbow moonstone. Glancing around again to see if there was any sign of his friends, he unpaused the videos to listen to the messages. He only gave half an ear to the first few messages and tuned in when the moonstone was moved and the slip of paper unfolded and displayed.

He snorted when he saw the word “Love” in loopy writing in the center of the page. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the word in other videos, but the first time he’d chosen that particular message. He listened to the peaceful, lightly accented voice talk about not closing himself off to love because it was out there and that he would find it when and where he least expected it if he hadn’t already.

The video ended shortly afterward and Derek frowned down at his phone, disappointed in the message. It would’ve been nice to find out that he was going to meet the love of his life, something he’d stopped hoping for after a string of really bad relationships but that wasn’t how the message had sounded. He knew he was closed off, but no one really blamed him, they understood. Then again, his mom always told him that you never won a race you never started so maybe he should give it a try.

He started to text Boyd when he got a message from Erica saying they weren’t going to make it and they were sorry for standing him up. Groaning, Derek slid his phone into his pocket and turned to head back to his car, freezing when he heard someone call his name. Turning around slowly, he squinted at the people behind him trying to find anyone that he recognized. Thinking he’d imagined the sound, he started to turn away when someone dressed as a peasant waved their arms over their head.

“Dude!” they shouted and Derek chuckled, finally identifying the person who called him.

“Don’t call me ‘dude’,” he said when Stiles reached his side, wide grin on his face and amber eyes sparkling.

Derek hadn’t seen Stiles in a few years, not since the younger man had gone away to college. The two of them had been friends since they were kids, their families close but as those things happen, they got older and the five year age difference between them became massive. Without thinking, his body acting on its own, he pulled Stiles into a hug.

Stiles hugged like he’d always done everything with strength and enthusiasm and Derek’s laughter grew louder when he managed to pick him a couple of inches off the ground before grunting and letting him fall. When the hug broke, Derek kept a hand on Stiles’ bicep, something warm running through him at the strength he felt underneath his fingers.

They stood there grinning at each other and Derek’s chest ached with affection and as he studied Stiles, noting the differences between the boy he remembered the man standing in front of him, he thought he felt something crack and his heart started beating faster and harder. Swallowing, he thought back to the words in the video. “If you haven’t already found it.”

“I missed you, dude,” Stiles said when the silence had stretched on too long. “You leaving?” He pouted as he asked.

Derek’s grin grew soft and warm as he shook his head and moved to wrap an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and guide him back into the festival. “Nah, I just got here.” He squeezed him in a one-armed hug. “So, tell me what you’ve been up to?”

It was a simple question but enough to set Stiles off into an excited ramble about everything Derek had missed over the past few years as they walked through the festival. The feeling in Derek’s chest grew the more time they spent together and by the time the festival was closing and Derek walked Stiles to his car, he couldn’t help but lean over and press a kiss to Stiles’ cheek.

“What was that for?” Stiles asked, the smile on his face growing impossibly wider. Derek shrugged and ducked his head, wishing the burning in his ears didn’t mean they were bright red and that Stiles would know he was embarrassed. “You’re still cute.”

“Me? What about you?”

“What about me?” Stiles teased and Derek poked him in the side, glad to find he was still ticklish. They wrestled for a few minutes before a honk from a nearby car startled them out of their own little world. “Guess I should get going.” He frowned. “It was really good seeing you.”

“How long are you back in town for?” Derek asked, hoping he’d get to see Stiles again before he headed back to school.

“Unknown,” Stiles replied. “I transferred to UC Berkeley and will be commuting to my classes. I’m back home with my dad until I can find a place I can afford. You?”

“Same. UC Berkeley, I mean.” They both nodded and looked everywhere but at each other. “So, can I see you again?”

Stiles’ eyes snapped to his as he studied him. “See me, see me?” he asked.

“Depends what you mean by that,” Derek said.

“Are you asking me on a date? ‘Cause I got some pretty serious date-like vibes today and I’ve always had a crush on you, so if it’s not a date just tell me now so I can prepare myself to deny my feelings like I did when I was -”

Derek’s brain shut off at “had a crush” and he moved forward pressing his lips to Stiles’ lips, cutting off the rambling. It took less than a second for Stiles to kiss back and Derek enjoyed the whimper he gave when the kiss ended. “Definitely a date.” He glanced around and then down at his phone. “In fact, do you want to meet at the diner for dinner?”

Grinning and nodding rapidly, Stiles pressed a kiss to Derek’s lips and climbed into his Jeep laughing at the stunned look on Derek’s face. “The sooner we start the date, the sooner we can end it.”

Derek frowned, his head spinning from the whiplash that Stiles’ words were putting him through. Did he want to date Derek or didn’t he? “Well, if you just want it to end, why don’t we forget it?” Derek turned to head towards his own vehicle, stopping when Stiles whistled sharply behind him.

“The sooner the date ends, the sooner we can get back to the kissing,” Stiles said, smirking when Derek gaped. “And I really would like to get back to the kissing.”

Derek laughed loud, his stomach shaking and the last bit of wall around his heart shattered and fell away as he winked at Stiles. “Oh, Stiles, kissing is just the beginning.” He laughed as he hurried to his car, Stiles sputtering in the background.

Cross-posted to AO3

#sterek #fullmoonficlet #eternalsterek #sterek fic #my writing #just the beginning

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gloves94 · 4 years

Text

Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 6

Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary: “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…” His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

'Phew, that had been a close one,' Tsai thought exhausted as she returned to the ship.

She had returned to meet Admiral Zhao in record time. It appeared he didn't suspect a thing. Perhaps it was the wine? He talked about his glory and how he expected to send a fill written transcript of his Avatar capture speech to the Fire Lord himself tomorrow. It was when he got too close for comfort that she prayed somebody would interrupt and her prayers were answered.

"Admiral Zhao!" A soldier sprinted into the room. "It's the Avatar!" He shouted in an alarmed tone.

xxx

She took advantage of this distraction and hauled her ass back to the ship. Exhausted, praying that the Avatar had made it out and that she had made the right call in trusting the Blue Spirit.

xxx

A couple of days later Iroh, Prince Zuko and Tsai sat before a tea table in Iroh's room. Zuko had been behaving extremely weird since the night that Tsai had gone away to rescue the Avatar. She wondered if he knew- if he suspected of her, but there was no way in hell he would've known. She had been fast. Subtle too having even made it to the music night to hear Iroh play the trombone and listen to the Lieutenant's love song.

There was absolutely no way he knew.

The three currently sat in the upper deck dinning chamber. The private room which the three shared their meals. It was decorated with two long fire nation banners on the walls, several candles and a figure of a red dragon's head under the horizontal window on the wall.

Tsai figured even Iroh had noticed the prince's off behavior.

"See Prince Zuko, a moment of quiet is good for your mental well-being," Iroh said after taking a most well enjoyed sip of ginseng tea. Tsai simply smiled at the older man and turned to pour some tea on the prince's cup. She watched him with a curious expression as he took a sip of it. However he stopped before and looked at her with suspicion. A nervous smile carved her face as she made eye contact with him. At the same time the ship was suddenly jerked causing the tea to slosh out of the cup and soak all of the prince's face and hair.

Tsai failed to hold in her laughter and laughed loudly. Zuko growled out in frustration and she could swear she could see the tea evaporating from his forehead. 'Now what?' He leapt to his feet and stomped out of the room into the main deck, the other two followed.

"Woah!" the girl starred in awe at a large beast that had just boarded the ship. A young dark haired woman rode the mighty beast to the deck.

"Get back!" She barked at the crew of fire benders that were ready to attack. "We're after a stowaway," she explained cutting to the chase.

"There are no stowaways on my ship. None besides this one," he added the last part in a lower tone and glared at the auburn haired girl. "Hey!" She protested crossing her arms over her chest.

It took that creature a second to rip the floor of the deck and sniffing loudly stuck its head inside the hole. To everyone's surprise an injured man climbed out of the hole and ran for his life. The beast opened its mouth and whipped its tongue striking the stowaway. The man then collapsed frozen stuff with a horrified expression on his face.

"He's paralyzed," Zuko muttered shocked.

"It's only temporary," The woman stated as she effortlessly hauled the stowaway over her shoulder. "The toxins will wear off in about an hour," she explained. "But by then, he'll be in jail and I'll have my money." She walked over to the beast her hips swaying slightly as she tossed the man onto the beasts back cooly.

"It's a shirshu, isn't is?" Tsai suddenly spoke, her eyebrows arched in surprise. "I've read about them, never seen one in person. Hard to come by in the wilderness. Even harder tamed. Must've cost a pretty penny," she mused tapping on her cheek in surprise. Zuko looked at him with his eyes narrowed. "What? I've read every encyclopedia in the library. I know a thing or two," she shrugged.

"Well, I'm impressed," Iroh stated as the three watched the woman crack her whip and bolt off the ship racing down the docks to the jail. Tsai almost ran to the edge of the rail and leaned against it. She didn't know if Iroh was impressed by the beast or by the woman.

"She's so cool," Tsai blurted in awe. "Very impressed," Iroh said with a nasty smirk as he stroked his beard thoughtfully.

Zuko flashed both of them a disturbed look, the one he gave his uncle was borderline one of disgust.

"Are you two thinking what I'm thinking?" She turned to look at the two fire benders standing next to her excited. "She's just what we need!" The girl exclaimed slapping her fist against her open palm.

"Ho!" Iroh let out a lecherous laugh which showed that they were both clearly not thinking the same thing. The other two ignored this.

"She can help us track the Avatar! Only problem is, we don't have anything that smells like him," she finished dead beat. Zuko was silent for a moment.

"I might have something."

xxx

"Why are you even coming with?" Zuko commented at Tsai's presence as they docked the ship and prepared to go look for the mysterious woman. "I can be of help," she chirped. "You'll only get in the way if there's a confrontation," he spat. His tone remained firm but his eyes darted to read her expression. He was becoming desperate to learn her secret, what she was capable off.

He still couldn't believe that this dork had been the same person to threaten to turn him into mush the other night. He looked at her eyes right now, it was quite the contrast compared to the apathetic irises that he had seen the other night. He was baiting her, hoping she would reval what dangerous skills she possessed. Instead she scoffed before a grin grew across her features.

"You're cute when you're worried" She poked his face childishly.

He swatted her hand away annoyed.

Why was she hiding her skills? This made him wonder if she was hiding anything else. What were her true motives?

He recalled the scars of conflicts on the walls of the hallway. The deep slashes that scarred the walls of the compound. The blood. The helmets lamely rolling around the floor and she had done all of it without a weapon or a single scratch on her.

How on Earth had she done it? He had seen her hands before. They were scarless, soft looking and always perfectly polished with dark varnish.

"No," the other snapped. "I don't want you to compromise the mission," he retorted.

Some moments later after poking around asking questions in local markets and temples the trio headed to the seediest looking tavern off the docks of the Mo Ce Sea where it was rumored that the bounty hunter usually lounged.

"Out of my way!" The prince barked already annoyed as he parted a sea of people out of his way, "Step aside, filth!"

"He means no offense!" Iroh apologized to the thugs in the room sheepishly. "I am certain you bathe regularly."

The stench made his statement doubtful. They crossed the dark pub until reaching a table at the end where the dark haired woman was arm-wrestling a man that appeared to be twice her size.

Tsai tried to play it cool, yet failed and squeaked out a fangirling "She's so cool!" She turned her embarrassed face away to hide her growing blush. Zuko rolled his eyes at this. "I need to talk to you!" The banished prince stated loudly, his narrowed eyes glared at the woman.

"Well, if it isn't my new friends, Angry Boy and Uncle Lazy," she commented as she eyed the odd trio. 'Do I get a nickname?' The girl didn't realized she had actually said that out loud. "Oh hon," she shook her head slightly. "You are way to pretty for him," she scoffed at Zuko. "I'd run if I were you."

'She thinks I'm pretty,' the other swooned with a dumb fan girl expression on her face.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Zuko shouted glaring. Iroh couldn't help but chuckle. Way too distracted by the compliment Tsai ignored this interaction.

She did all this while engaged in an arm wrestling game. It was then that she slammed the large man's monstrous hand down against the table. The crowds cheered, money was tossed on the table.

'So cool!'

Once again- Tsai missed part of the conversation.

"Name's June," she introduced herself. Snapping the colonial girl out of her thoughts.

"I need you to find someone," Zuko said as they made their way outside the stinking pub. It was then that he pulled up a woman's necklace. More specifically a water tribe necklace. One of the ones water benders customary use to propose in their tribes.

"What happened," June drawled out, her voice dropping with sarcasm as she leaned against her shirshu with her arms crossed over her chest. "Your ex-girlfriend run off on you?"

"It's not the girl I'm after," Zuko responded cooly. "It's the bald monk she's traveling with."

"Whatever you say," June shrugged.

Moments later they were heading out of the tavern.

"You got it!" Iroh laughed merrily. It sounded as if a deal had just been made.

"Get on!" June instructed as she grabbed the necklace from Zuko once outside as they stood around the shirshu. Tsai had never seen Iroh move so fast as he eagerly climbed in a spot in the saddle where he would get to sit behind June. He turned to look at the two teenagers expectantly.

"We have to stop by my ship first. She'll only get in the way," Zuko said referring to his uncle's guest. "No I won't!" She protested childishly.

"Can't do that Angry Boy," June drawled out clicking her tongue. "Once Nyla has the scent, she has to follow it. There are no pit-stops." She explained. "Now get on!"

Zuko climbed on and sat behind his Uncle. With no choice Tsai sat behind him.

Nyla was practically salivating at the human scent of the necklace. "Hold on tight!" June warned before cracking her whip. With a single crack the beast lunged forward as the hunt began.

"Woah!" Tsai instinctively wrapper her arms around the prince holding on tightly. "Tsai! Get your hands off me!" He protested. The feeling of her body being pressed against his, her arms around his chest made him feel uncomfortably hot. "I'm going to fall off!" Her grip around him tightened. "See? This is what I meant when I said you'd get in the way!" The other shot back as the two bickered back and forth.

June rolled her eyes. People screamed and fled in panic as the giant beastly shirshu leapt over their homes buildings, from roof to roof racing through the village. It was almost like riding a rollercoaster. Tsai yelped when Nyla suddenly came to a jerking stop almost falling off the saddle, she tightened her grip around the prince and his hand gripped her arm tightly. She wouldn't be surprised if he was asphyxiating. It was then that they suddenly came to a halt outside of temple with warm hues. Outside of it stood an older woman with a calm expression on her features. It was almost as if she had been expecting them.

"Why are we stopping?" Zuko demanded in annoyance. "She must've spent a lot of time here," June explained flatly. "We have no time for this!" he snapped impatiently.

The older woman that was standing outside suddenly approached the shirshu and addressed Iroh with a hand on her hips. She wore ochre colored robes which were the same color to the ones Tsai usually wore. She wore a golden crown with a circular symbol at the center.

"Care to hear your fortune, handsome?" She offered in a flirtatious tone and the man smiled down at her. "At my age, there's only one big surprise left," Iroh replied serenely with a smile, "And I'd just as soon leave it mysterious."

Feeling nauseous Tsai sighed and buried her green face on the prince's shoulder. He immediately stiffened and was about to complain when the lady turned to them.

"What about you two love doves? Care to know the gender of your firstborn? The answer might surprise you." She offered gently with a small smile.

Zuko quickly released his grip from Tsai's arm as if it had burned him. He hadn't realized he was still holding on. The girl's arms were still wrapped around his torso. However her grip was now weaker and looser. "For the last time!" Zuko roared with all of his might his face burning a bright shade of red. "She is NOT my girlfriend!" He roared so loud that a flock of birds in a nearby stormed away. He said it so loud and with so much rage that Tsai wouldn't have been surprised if the people in the Southern Water Tribe had heard him. She managed to utter a zombie like groan.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she moaned out sickly feeling the nausea creeping on her.

Some time later after several ups and downs of searching for the damn Avatar Nyla stopped at the nunnery Abbey. It was then that the perfume stench became too powerful.

"I'm going to throw up," she uttered.

"That's it. Off the beast!" Zuko ordered but she had already beat him to the punch sliding off Nyla.

"Tsai!" Iroh asked concerned.

"I-I don't feel well," she said attempting to swallow up the vomit that was creeping up her throat. "Just come back for me later. I'll be waiting right here," she sighed as she leaned against one of the pale yellow walls of the abbey and slid down it to her bottom.

"See! This is what I meant when I said you'd get in the way!" Zuko exclaimed.

"Next time you try riding in the back of a shirshu!" She shot back.

"Alright, enough flirting you too. We've got an Avatar to catch!" June cracked her whip. And just like that we were off.

Some moments later Tsai was leaning over a bush in one of the edges of the Abbey puking her guts out. "Last... Time... I ride a..." She gurgled violently. "A shirshu."

The nuns were more than kind. They offered some water and stale bread and offered her a seat under a shaded bench. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. It was almost peaceful and those lovely perfume scents. She looked up at the skies and wondered if it would be nightfall by the time the group returned back for her.

It was then that the nun she identified as the superior one entered the abbey with a young boy that had a blue arrow tattooed down his forehead.

'Huh, well I'll be damned,' she let out a low whistle. 'Damn Avatar literally just strolled in.'

Part of her wondered if she was hallucinating. Their eyes met and Aang's went wide. Fast as the wind he was standing in front of her before she could even react. Maybe the rumors were true and he really was as fast as the wind.

"It's you!" He exclaimed.

Aang looked at her carefully. It had definitely been the lady in disguise that had rescued him from that night when he had been captured by Admiral Zhao. The night of the Blue Spirit.

"You rescued me!"

Instead of wearing the dark make up from that night, her eyes were made up with a light brown eyeshadow. Lips a shade of peony pink, except her skin was paler than it had been that night. Aang thought she looked unwell, almost sick.

"It's me," she mused with a lazy smile. "I-I don't even know your name!" He spoke rapidly. "Thank you," he bowed down slightly out of respect.

"Avatar," She spoke after a moment unsure of how to address him.

The gears in her head turned slowly as she processed what she could do. Could she fight the Avatar down? Tie him up somehow and wait for Zuko to get back? She wondered if she could persuade him to come with them peacefully? Or maybe- just maybe he could help her...

"I believe all citizens of the Fire Nation should be treated equally." She smiled after a moment. "Fire and earth benders as well as non benders."

"Fire Nation?" His eyebrows went up in surprise his body leaned back as he his gut instinct suddenly warned him that this person was dangerous. It was Tsai's turn to take a bow before him. "Which is why I with the most respect have to ask you to come with me."

Aang was shocked. He was about to speak when the wooden door to the abbey was suddenly wrecked as Nyla stormed in with Iroh, Zuko and two prisoners.

"There he is!" Zuko exclaimed pointing a finger at the airbender. Nyla charged forward ready to strike. The Avatar using a glider of sorts leapt up into the air and began flying in sharp circles. Tsai continued calmly sipping on her water witnessing the madness unfold. She knew this wasn't her fight.

She had already done what she could. Now it was up to Zuko to capture him.

Nyla charged toward the Avatar when a massive Flying Bison tackled it down. Two of the nuns suddenly dragged two bodies to rest next to where she was sitting.

"Sup," she retorted casually still sipping her beverage. The two wore Water Tribes robes, had dark hair, dark skin and brown hair with striking blue eyes. The two flashed her an odd look. A battle unfolded between Zuko and the Avatar and there was a massive explosion in which both flew up to opposite rooftops. June had been hit and lay unconscious on the floor before Iroh patted her face awake and she rose up to the occasion and fought. Iroh stood there feeling rather pleased with himself.

"Oh, there you are Tsai. Feeling better?" he asked casually. As if a massive fight wasn't unfolding before them. The girl looked at the prince who looked like he was really struggling. Then again, it was him, June and Nyla against the Avatar. She assumed they would be able to carry their own weight in this fight. "Should we do something?" She asked not removing her eyes from the fighting prince. Iroh looked pensive for a moment. "Actually-" he began. "let's go smell some perfumes," he said with a slight smile.

Iroh and Tsai stood on the sidelines as they critiqued, tried and smelt some of the exquisite perfumes that the abbey produced. "Hint of freesia, I like this one," she said sniffing a small white bottle. Iroh held a bottle he liked himself. Both made a sly eye contact sharing the same thought before hiding the bottle inside of their sleeves and laughing.

The fight continued. When suddenly barrels of perfume were poured all over the abbey. One of the prisoners that Zuko had brought with the group on top of Nyla, the girl wearing the Water Tribe clothes was a water bender. She bended the water and made it rain a powerful stench of perfume which clogged Nyla's nose.

"The Shirshu! It's been blinded!"

Nyla went off the hook. It's whipped tongue suddenly snapped and accidentally struck Prince Zuko who collapsed with a gasp of surprise.

June jumped from the saddle in an attempt to soothe her creature which failed and in a swing of its head the shirshu lashed out at its master and struck her before fleeing into the wilderness.

"June! No!" Iroh cried out dramatically as he hurried forward to catch the paralyzed woman in his arms, both of the collapsing to the ground. Tsai raised an eyebrow 'Really?' The edge of her eye twitched.

From across the abbey she saw the Avatar embrace his teammates. He looked at her from a distance and their eyes once again met. It was then that Aang realized that she was with them. She was a part of the Fire Nation. She was the enemy. She weighted her options. What was right and what was wrong. Should she attempt to go after them?

She stood back and nodded her head down, slightest of smiles on her face. He did not return it. And just like that, the Avatar escaped once again.

This time Tsai approached the paralyzed prince, his uncle and the bounty hunter.

"Uncle?" Zuko muttered looking at his uncle who was lying next to him with June lying on top of him, "I didn't see you get hit with the tongue."

"Shhh.... Iroh shushed him, putting his finger to his lips before putting his hand back down and reclosing his eyes with a smile of pure bliss on his face.

June's eyes snapped open as glared at Iroh angrily.

"Well, well, well, looks like this time I'm the one with the upper hand," Tsai teased both hands on her hips. "I wonder if I should go take a stroll in the park or get some help?" She laughed.

xxxxx

FIRST https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621142853126602752/sunburn-prince-zuko-1

NEXT https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621233199830466560/sunburn-prince-zuko-7

PREV https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621143989947629568/sunburn-prince-zuko-5

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

55 notes · View notes

writer-k-pop · 4 years

Text

Traveler

저희 가문에 있어요. It’s in my blood.

Description: Yoongi couldn’t be more proud of her. Traveling and doing her own thing. And every time she comes home, he eagerly awaits her arrival. Warnings: None Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1.3k

BTS Masterlist | Masterlists

Yoongi smiles as he slides his hand down the photo book page. She always said she got the travel bug from him. Claiming that his career as an idol, traveling the world made her want to travel farther. Though he would never let her travel beyond the Earth's atmosphere and she agreed. Space was the one place she was content with not discovering.

Turning the page, her adventure to China displays throughout the pictures. He sighs and wonders how her travels went this time around.

"Oi! Are you going to help us or sit there like a lost puppy?" Hoseok stands a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest and Jungkook close behind me, mirroring his posture.

Closing the book, Yoongi stands, "I'm coming, I'm coming."

The house is cleaned and the other members are milling around. Hoseok, Jungkook, and Yoongi have been assigned to decorate the cake. Jin, Namjoon, and Taehyung are assigned to help with dinner. And Jimin is making sure the table setting is looking perfect. The other wives and children are playing around and waiting patiently for her arrival.

"What time does her plane land, again?" Namjoon asks, looking up from stirring the soup on the stovetop.

Yoongi glances up at the clock on the wall, "I think soon if it hasn't already."

"Namjoon hyung, stir." Taehyung instructs, not looking up from his cutting board.

Yoongi's phone rings from the living room and Jimin quickly picks it up.

"She's through baggage claim and all." He announces for everyone, "They'll be here in thirty minutes."

Yoongi nods and continues carefully placing the tiny plastic balloons on the cake.

Sure, she's gone for travels before. But this time she's been gone for over 6 months and they all missed her and thought it was appropriate to through a small party. She even agreed to it.

"Dad," Mina walks up to her father, "Do you think she brought a gift for me?"

Yoongi pulls his daughter into a half hug, "She said she brought everyone gifts. But she told me she has a special gift for you."

Mina smiles brightly and shakes her fists in excitement, something she learned from her Uncle Jimin. Yoongi smiles and presses a kiss to her temple. Giving her a balloon, she searches for an open spot on the cake and gently places the decoration down.

Thirty minutes later, the front door opens and grunts are followed by the sounds of suitcases being dragged and bagged around.

"We're, oh, we're home!" (y/n) calls out and Yoongi immediately shuffles to the front door where his wife and daughter are struggling to get four large suitcases into the house.

"Miyeon-ah!" Yoongi opens his arms and his oldest daughter ditches her suitcases and runs straight into him, nearly knocking him over.

She hugs him tightly, burying her face into his chest, "Hi dad." And after 25 years, he has yet to tire of hearing those words.

He kisses the top of her head, "I missed you."

Miyeon shakes her head, "I've missed you more."

"Bet." He chuckles, and pulls away to take in his daughters appearance.

"You cut your hair." Yoongi comments, playing with the ends of her shortened hair.

She nods, "In France, it was so hot. It was kind of an impulse move."

"Unnie!!!" Mina runs into Miyeon and warps her arms around her waist.

"Mina!" Miyeon leans down and wraps her arms around her younger sister.

Walking past his two daughters, Yoongi gives (y/n) a hug, "How was the drive from the airport?"

"Not bad." (y/n) answers as the other greet Miyeon and begin to chat with her, "But why our daughter has so much stuff is beyond me." She looks at the four suitcases standing in front of the now closed front door, "I mean she definitely doesn't get her overpacking from me."

Yoongi shrugs, "Oops."

(y/n) laughs, "What doesn't she get from you?"

"You must be hungry!" Hoseok says loudly, "Let's eat before the food gets cold!"

"Uncle Tae, did you make your soup?" Miyeon asks excitedly.

"Oh, you bet I did." Taehyung smiles and Miyeon gives him a loud high five while cheering.

"We'll take care of these later." (y/n) states and grabs Yoongi's arm, leading him towards the rest. "Let's eat."

After the all the food has been eaten and stories of Miyeon's European travels have been shared, the children wait anxiously with big eyes for the gifts that Miyeon has brought along this time.

"Dad, can you bring the blue suitcase?" Miyeon asks with Jungkook's three year old son in her lap.

Yoongi sets down the dish he was clearing and nods. Rolling the suitcase over, he carefully lays it on its side and helps Miyeon unzip it.

"That's a lot of stuff." Jimin's eldest son comments, looking into the stuffed suitcase.

"We have a big family." Mina comments back.

"Alright." Miyeon exhales and brings out the first plastic wrapped item, "What do we have first?"

With the kids scattered around Miyeon and the adults around the edges, Miyeon hands out the gifts she bought during her travels.

Mina sits right by Miyeon's side watching as she hands everyone their gift, waiting for hers. Yoongi tilts his head to the side and smiles at his daughters.

"And for my lil sister." Miyeon nudges Mina and hands her a black plastic bag. Mina immediately takes the bag and pulls out three paper wrapped objects.

"Three?" Mina exclaims in happiness.

Miyeon smiles her gummy smile and nods.

Carefully unwrapping each, Mina reveals an Eiffel Tower figurine, a Leaning Tower of Pisa figurine, and Buckingham Palace figurine.

"I love them!" Mina exclaims, hugging her sister, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Mom, Dad." Miyeon looks up at her parents. Yoongi perks up and listens.

Miyeon hands over a bigger bag, "For you."

(y/n) takes the present in her hands, "Wha- you didn't have to."

Miyeon shrugs, "I know but I saw it and well, impulse. Plus I know you guys have nearly filled up the other one so you're going to need a new one."

Yoongi watches as (y/n) pulls out a beautiful leather book. The words "You can't take the traveler out of me. It's in my blood." is engraved in gold on the front and on the inner cover, "Love you, mom and dad." is written.

The pages sit empty, waiting for pictures to be slid into its slots to tell stories of their daughter's worldwide adventures.

(y/n) sniffles, "Miyeon, it's beautiful, thank you." She hands the book to Yoongi and hugs Miyeon tightly.

"It really is beautiful. Thank you, Miyeon." Yoongi agrees and hugs Miyeon once (y/n) releases her.

"It's perfect, isn't it?" Miyeon asks, smiling proudly at the gift.

"More than perfect." (y/n) answers, "Where did you find it?"

"Switzerland." Miyeon says, "It was just sitting in the window of a cute little book shop and then a few blocks down and older engraving shop was open and then, poof, I had your gift all set."

Later after all of the members and their families have left, after Miyeon and Mina have fallen asleep together in Miyeon's bed, and after the massive amounts of dishes have been cleaned, (y/n) and Yoongi finally can head to bed themselves.

As they make their way towards their bedroom, Yoongi can't help but stop and look into Miyeon's bedroom. His daughters sleep back to back, soft snores coming from Miyeon's mouth and Mina's curled up into a little ball while Miyeon stretches to her body's full length.

Yoongi leans his head against the doorframe and smiles at the sight.

"She is most definitely your daughter." (y/n) chuckles softly, appearing next to him, taking in the same sight.

Smiling, Yoongi nods, agreeing full heartedly to the statement.

While Miyeon was growing up, she had constantly said that she wanted to travel the world. And he had always assumed that her dream was to become an idol so she could travel the way he did. He had come to terms with supporting her and helping her if she wanted to take the path he did. Never did he suspect that she meant she wanted to travel like this. But he was never disappointed or surprised.

He was proud. More proud than he ever thought any one person could be.

#bts #bts imagine #bts yoongi imagine #bts suga imagine #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi #suga imagine

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your--isgayrights · 4 years

Note

3, 5, 17, 34 :?

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

Oooh hmm... Its hard to compare stuff I’ve written to other people’s writing, but I guess that the things I try to add to my writing that I wish there was more of is like, an emphasis on the relationships between characters more than plot developments, and weighing out the sort of long term emotional consequences of certain life events. I try to write every scene that I do with a specific purpose, and I have this specific feeling in mind while writing that I want to make sure is communicated to the reader so that they can understand it. Another big thing when I’m writing fic, mostly, is that I always want the reader to remember that they know who these characters are. There are a lot of AU fics that I’ve read where I’m just like... this is a great story, but I wonder why the author didn’t just use original characters, since it doesn’t really remind me of the original work. So I guess I think a significant feature of my fics is playing off the original text in a specific way?

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

Ahhh, I’m the type who sees the flaws in older works rather clearly... I’d say that I’m rather proud of the first fic that I ever finished mostly because I just managed to finish it. It was only eight chapters long and I don’t think I like the writers craft much now, but if I think about it I think that I was putting something really genuine into it while writing that I’m proud that I managed to get out. Although, I have to say that I’m pretty proud of the direction that “and at the very least, the wall will change.” is going, even if its still a WIP. There’s some sections of it that I really want people to see, but I need to put in the build up first for it to properly make sense.

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

Hmm... Well, there’s some obvious ones like the fact that I’m not really an nsfw writer or someone who does like trauma p*rn or gore or things like that. But I think a more fun answer is that I’m never going to write a love at first sight kind of fic. I’m kind of a big slowburn guy, and I really like writing relationships between people who have long, complicated histories with one another. I also don’t really know what it feels like to look at someone and feel attracted to them romantically right away, so its not something I would ever write about.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

Under the cut because I picked a long one!

“Won't you be mad with me, though?” Shin Yoosung hid her face against his leg as she asked him this sad question in that very small voice of hers. “For making you take care of Biyoo on your own…”

…

It… it was an odd moment, because Kim Dokja had the realization that if he had known she was someone who knew Yoo Jonghyuk, he probably would have never spoken to the little girl who seemed so concerned over him now at all.

And he had been so preoccupied about this problem that only affected him that he hadn’t noticed that this kind girl was feeling so down on herself just now… truly he was a person who was far too self-concerned.

Kim Dokja extracted his leg from this young girl whose sense of responsibility was so admirable. She let him go with little resistance, seemingly not surprised by the action. The girl continued to hide her face by staring down at the ground.

He then crouched down so that he could meet Shin Yoosung’s eyes, putting his hand on her shoulder as he did.

“Of course I’m not mad at you, Yoosung-ah.” He reassured her in the warmest voice he could manage. “After all, how can I really claim to be the only one taking care of Biyoo, when you’ve already helped me so much.”

He gently brushed some of her hair aside, so that her eyes, which had become slightly wet at this point, could meet his own.

“You saved Biyoo’s life when you took her in from the snow.” He wanted to make sure that this was something that Shin Yoosung completely understood. “She would have died if you hadn’t rescued her, you know that?”

The young girl who was not quite yet crying wiped her face a little. “I-I know that.” She said the right words, but in a voice that made Kim Dokja believe she didn’t quite understand the significance of them.

“And, you know,” Kim Dokja went on, “If I had been the one to find Biyoo in the snow, I wouldn’t have known what to do at all. It’s because you know so much about animals, and care so much about them, that you were able to save her life, and tell me all of the important instructions on how to properly take care of her. So every time I remember those words that you gave to me, and use them to properly take care of Biyoo, that’s you saving her life again, alright?”

“A-alright…” Shin Yoosung sniffled a bit, but nodded her head.

Kim Dokja cursed himself a bit, thinking that all the odd things he had suddenly started to say had made Shin Yoosung a little more emotional.

“So you’ve done enough.” He summarized what he had wanted to say to her. “You can just go enjoy your dinner now, and not feel so guilty about it, okay?”

“O-okay.” Shin Yoosung nodded once more, this time more vigorously. As if she really believed him.

Good. He patted the girl once more on the top of her head, before standing back up.

I don’t know if this came across in text because no one really commented on it, but this scene of KDJ comforting SYS was really important to me, one of the most important scenes in the chapter. It sort of mirrors this feeling I was having about some of my friends and the way that I loved them and how the positive things they have said to me over the years carry me on. Everytime I remember someone that I truly love, I remember a different way that they saved my life. And well, in fiction I don’t want to give too much away before chapter six, but I do want to mention that all of the relationship moments I choose to include follow similar themes for a reason, and I’m a bit proud of how the continuity is starting to flow together as I write more scenes in chapter 4.

#ask #ask meme #obstinaterixatrix #also hello stella hi hi hi #i didn't want to say this in the ask but i was really trying hard to think of a way to mention that i noticed you used homestuck emojis in #a way that was complimentary #like ah... :? (affectionate)

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hawkbucks · 4 years

Text

SteveTony Harry Potter AU for anon! :D Whose ask I have lost once again since it was on my old blog.

Original prompt: hogwarts!au where tony & steve's class started lessons abt Amortentia, but Tony is unaware of w/c potion they are brewing; he's too out of the loop bc of another allnighter maybe? So Tony's confused as to why the room smells so much like Steve & thinks that he’s pranking him bc of a prank he did on him earlier? Or thinks Steve somehow found out he likes him and it's his way of teasing/making fun of him so he snaps loudly at Steve to Cut It Out

Tony wrinkles his nose as he measures out exactly 20 grams of powdered moonstone and adds it into his cauldron. They’re supposed to be making a potion that does… things? To be quite honest, he isn’t sure what it is they’re supposed to be making. Every word that his professor uttered went in one ear and out the other, the nook and crannies of his mind busy being taken over by dreamy thoughts of cuddling up in his warm bed with a belly full of food. Damn his N.E.W.T.-levels and the near obsessive way they have to study for them.

He stirs his potion clockwise once, then counterclockwise thrice, idly following the instructions written out on the textbook he has sitting next to his cauldron. He reduces the flame underneath his cauldron and leaves the potion to simmer, waiting for it to turn a sky blue.

He starts to crush 5 dried rose petals in his mortar and pestle, eyes wandering around the room. One student, Peter Quill if his memory serves him right, seems to having trouble with the way that he’s still trying to stir some peppermint into his cauldron. Another student, Kamala Khan, seems to have already finished, the professor standing over rnext to her and complimenting the fantastic sheen of her potion.

Then there’s Steve Rogers, who Tony’s eyes always seem to land on no matter where they are or what they’re doing. He seems to be on the same stage as Tony, the tip of his pink tongue poking out between his teeth as he works on crushing the petals. Tony briefly wonders if Steve’s hands are as large as they appear to be.

That’s inappropriate, his mind chides, but can anyone blame him? Steve Rogers is the epitome of perfect Hogwarts student. He’s a prefect (that Tony strongly suspects will be made Head Boy) as shown by the badge pinned to his chest, the Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team along with being the team captain, an excellent dueler, and he’s earned an Outstanding on all of his O.W.L’s bar 2 subjects.

In short, he’s way out of Tony’s league, which is exactly why Tony’s chosen to have a crush on him.

It’s not helped by the fact that Steve seems to go out of his way to talk to Tony whenever he can, whether that means complimenting him on his wandstance or offering to buy him a Pumpkin Pasty or a Cauldron Cake whenever their shockingly interwoven group of friends ventures to Hogsmeade for the weekend. Plus, Steve, it turns out, is a bit of a nerd when it comes to collecting Chocolate Frog cards. It’s frustratingly endearing, especially when he offered to give Tony his card of Derwent Shimpling simply because he knew that Tony was intrigued by Shimpling’s story.

Speak of the devil, Steve catches his eye and smiles sweetly, eyes closing into crescents as he tilts his head to the side.

Tony huffs, embarrassed at being caught staring, and turns his eyes back to his cauldron.

The potion’s color is satisfactory, and he assumes the petals are crushed enough. He places the pestle off to the side. Using one hand, he stirs the potion clockwise and pours in the petals with the other.

It takes effect almost immediately; the surface of the potion forms this beautiful mother-of-pearl sheen, starting from where the petals were dropped in and expanding the more and more Tony stirs it. Steam spirals up into the air. He takes a deep breath, relieved that his potion turned out better than he expected.

And, wow, that potion smells fantastic. Freshly brewed coffee, petrichor, and… Steve, all sandalwood and vanilla. He takes another sniff, chest clenching when he realizes that Steve’s scent isn’t going away. He fists his hands, shoving them into the pockets of his robes.

The first thing his mind jumps to is that Steve knows. He knows all about Tony’s pathetic little crush on him and decided to tease him by spraying that stupid cologne or whatever he uses all over the room to see that lovesick look in Tony’s eyes whenever he catches a whiff of that scent that he associates so strongly with desire. It has him thinking whether Steve ever thought of him as a person or if he thought of him as a heart that he could string along and play with until he got bored.

God, and all of his other friends probably knew about this, too. Lose one, lose ‘em all, he supposes.

“Can you cut that out, Rogers?” he calls out, an agitated set to his jaw. He ignores the curious looks that a few other students throw his way.

Steve looks up from where he’s putting the petals into his own mixture, confused and looking as innocent as the day he was born. “What? I’m—am I doing something wrong?”

He’s a good actor, Tony’ll give him that. How else would he have been able to put him under the false pretense that Steve might actually want to be friends? “Stop spraying your perfume all over the room. It’s suffocating.”

Steve’s eyes go wide. Ha. Caught. “I’m—I’m not spraying anything.”

Tony snorts. “Sure.”

“No, I—Tony, you know what we’re making, right?” A few students snicker in the background, and Steve throws a hard glare their way. “We’re making Amortentia.”

Amortentia. Oh. Oh, no. He looks down at the textbook and, sure enough, Amortentia is written in bold words right at the top of the page. Heat engulfs his entire face and his knees start quaking. The most potent love potion in existence, he reads, finding this all very familiar from the precursory study he had to do a week before, distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen, spiraling steam, and an odor unique in the fact that it adapts itself to smell pleasant to anyone within sniffing range, with each person having their own combination. He should’ve known the second the petals hit the liquid.

Instead, he ends up outing his crush in front of all his classmates. Gossip spreads like wildfire around the school, so he has no doubt that everyone from the Headmaster to the squid in the damn lake would know about his crush by the end of the week, if not the end of the day.

“Professor,” Tony manages to get out, voice miraculously not wavering, “I need to use the restroom.”

He doesn’t wait for his professor to reply before he’s sweeping out of the room, tears threatening to fall.

Stupid. How could he be so stupid. He couldn’t just keep his mouth shut and confront Steve about it after class. No, he had to put on a show and now everyone knows. Everyone knows. They’re probably making fun of him. Steve’s probably laughing. Fine. It’s fine.

“Tony, wait!” Steve calls out from behind him, having followed him out into the hall.

He continues to walk, upping his speed. If Steve wants to mock him, then he can damn well do it later.

Steve’s footsteps get faster, louder, and then Tony’s wrist is held in a firm yet gentle grip, keeping him from moving any further forward. “Wait, Tony, please,” Steve says, out of breath.

Tony turns around, eyebrows furrowed together as he desperately tries to blink away the tears. “It’s not like you’re giving me much of a choice,” he grouses. He gives one experimental tug of his wrist, unsurprised that Steve’s grip doesn’t falter even a bit.

Steve pulls him closer until they’re standing almost chest-to-chest. Tony has to tilt his head up to even look at Steve in the eye. “The Amortentia… did you really not know?”

A peal of laughter tears itself from Tony’s throat. “No. I didn’t know. Why? You here to make fun of me all because it had your scent? Because I admitted to having a crush on you without me even knowing?” He tries one more time to get his wrist out of Steve’s hand. “That’s a pretty low blow, Rogers.”

Steve shakes his head. “The Amortentia scented like you for me.”

He sounds so genuine, so honest, that Tony hopes. Oh, he hopes. “You’re joking,” comes out of his mouth instead. “You’re lying.”

“Out of everything you think I’d lie about, do you really think I’d lie about this?” Steve says. “Honey and lavender. That’s what I smell, and it comes from you. You and hot chocolate and paint. That’s what it smells like for me. I like you, Tony. I’ve always liked you.”

Tony frowns. “Yet you’ve never told me.”

“I didn’t think you’d like me back,” Steve admits, expression turning sheepish. “I mean, you could have anyone, really, so I… I don’t know. I didn’t think that I’d have a chance.”

“You,” Tony says in disbelief, “didn’t think you’d have a chance with me?”

Steve shrugs, smiling nervously. “You’re real kind, Tony. I’ve seen how you are with that Peter Parker kid; you’re basically his older brother. You’re not afraid to speak up, and I admire that. You’re smart and talented and…—” a red flush appears on Steve’s cheeks— “you’re cute. You could have anyone, and I didn’t think that you’d want that anyone to be me.”

Tony searches Steve’s face, stares him in the eye, looks for anything that could tell him that Steve is lying. He wants to believe that Steve is truthful, but he doesn’t want to but his heart at risk by blindly accepting his words at face value.

Thankfully, he finds nothing but earnesty.

“You’re really not lying, are you?” he says, voice no louder than a whisper.

Steve swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m really not.” He loosens his grip on Tony’s wrist. “Sorry for just grabbing you like that. I do, uh… I do like you very much.” He fully lets go of Tony, chewing on his lower lip.

Tony nods. “It’s alright.” He hesitates for a second before slowly reaching out with one hand and intertwining his fingers with Steve’s, restoring that connection. “We should probably get back to class.”

Steve laughs and squeezes Tony’s hand. “We probably should.”

#filled #2 #3 #4 #5 #stevetony #Tony is a Hufflepuff and you will pry that from my cold dead hands.#Professor: You guys did an amazing job but I'm gonna have to dock points because you guys just left.#Professor: Seriously like. What the fuck.#Professor: We have rules and you guys can't just disregard them.

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xianglingslesbian · 4 years

Note

way of kings, Satsuki’s moving castle (👀), Daiki’s basketball (👀👀), oh no he’s hot, and unstoppable force/immovable object pls

ah hihi! ty for the ask!! <3 this got very long so i am putting it under a cut

the way of kings

this is basically just a knb stormlight au lmaooo. i actually dont have much yet its just a vague outline and the main character placements. i also have to work out a LOT of stuff bc. heralds. i’ll list the placements i have for now!!

kaladin - hyuuga OR aomine i really cannot decide smh. EDIT HOLY SHIT MIDORIMA IS THE PERFECT KALADIN

adolin - kise bc you cant tell me that ‘“fight me!” adolin said’ isn’t PEAK kise energy

shallan - .......izuki. puns? puns. also yay for shared insecurity complexes and refusal to address their own mental health

dalinar - kasamatsucchi <3 he has the eyebrows and the blue uniform don’t @ me

jasnah - uhh araki, solely because i didn’t wanna change au!jasnah’s gender. otherwise 100% would have been midorima

sadeas - imayoshit :) everyone flip off the manipulative bastard

renarin - kurokooooo!! okay but the idea of a person construed as weak finding their own way in the world is really similar b/w these two

sylphrena - momoi <333 syl rlly do have momoi energy tbh

i do have a couple more placements BUT idk where ur at in the series and it could be a potential spoiler so i’m gonna shut up now. tagging @serenesavagery bc i think she’d like this ily saori

satsuki’s moving castle

ok here’s an AU i actually have shit planned out for (and some chapters written) lmaooo it’s a momoi/riko howl AU!! riko = sophie + momoi = howl is rlly fun to write lol. also aomine is calcifer bc let’s be real that tiny fire demon was basically just demon!aomine. the chapter titles in this one are gold tbh i’m really proud of them -- examples are, “Do YOU Want A Charming Stranger To Sweep You Off Your Feet? [Not Clickbait]” and “Riko Aida Presents - Being Old Sucks, Part 1/? (Also, There's A Demon But That’s Not Important)”.

tiny snippet:

Riko could feel the stirrings of heat in her cheeks as Satsuki pressed against her, arm laying on her hand.

“Let me,” she said sweetly. Dazed, Riko did so, moving aside so Satsuki had better access to the food.

“Hand me a couple of eggs and some more bacon, please,” Satsuki instructed. Riko complied, doing her best to keep her composure. This was the wicked wizard Satsuki, not just any pretty girl - she had to be on her guard.

Satsuki cooked much the same way Riko did, planting a few doubts in the now-aged girl’s mind. Eggshells in the eggs, blackened bacon… perhaps her cooking really was bad.

Then again, from what she’d seen of Junpei, he did have a tendency to exaggerate.

“no its totally not gay for a girl to cook over your shoulder what do you mean” - aida riko, circa 1920 (approx. when this is set bc it follows the ghibli movie)

daiki’s basketball

yes its an aomine-kuroko roleswap yes i like torturing myself because it comes w/the bonus of inflicting this upon my readers. it’s my first multichapter, and like ewbts it’s also half posted and then i realised how shittily i’d written it so i started rewriting smh. the only redeemable bit about v1 is the summary bc it’s good for my summary standards:

tetsu had changed. tetsu was no longer his partner. but daiki saw that same spark in kagami, and even if he wasn’t one for sappy romantic stuff like tetsu, maybe this time… maybe this time the light he picked would stay with him.

im not crying you are

a small snippet:

“Well, you like painting. Maybe paint a basketball on the school wall or something?” Satsuki suggested absently, still looking at the giant chocolate fountain. It couldn’t hurt to go in and try it, right?

“Thanks, Satsuki.” Daiki’s voice had a sudden spark to it, and Satsuki’s eyes shot wide as she realised what she’d said.

“No - Dai, wait! You can’t-” But he’d already cut the call.

Oh, God save Satsuki Momoi.

(yes. he did actually. paint the fucking school wall. god save momoi indeed)

oh no he’s hot

this is an older idea but one i still love tbh! i have to work around the setting bc i wanna set it in not-america 😂 i have a summary written up which describes it well so i will plug it:

Everything was in place. Zuko would have adopted Izumi by this time tomorrow; would have met the demands of his company; would be a father, the best one that he could. He had to admit he was a little more than excited - it’s not every day that you get to be a father, and especially not to a firecracker like Izumi. Now, if only Izumi’s social worker weren’t this attractive… and if only he weren’t the same man that Zuko had been absolutely, abominably horrible to the previous week.

its a zukka modern AU in which zuko is running his dad’s company after ousting ozai, and the board pressures him to get an heir. ace gay bean zuko decides he’ll adopt instead. also azula/katara subplot with katara being an intern at azula’s hospital (NOT in charge of azula tho bc that can lead to some weird power dynamics). highkey slowburn romance tbh. zukka hate each other for only a bit, but the friendzoning is unreal lmao

immovable object meets unstoppable force

this is a set of legend of korra rewrite oneshots! basically im trying to fix all the colorism, sexism and other issues + give a better rep to korrasami bc lbr we deserved more development. also side character rights <3

i actually have posted one fic of it here so i suppose this counts as a snippet? its pema/lin hahaha yay for lesbians

thank you so much for this ask i just really ran away with it i get excited talking about my projects and wow now i have fuel for daiki’s basketball again so that might just be the one i finish soonest <3

#knb #atla #lok #ceru writes #answered #wips #edit: why the fuck did it paste the body twice fuck you tumblr #shin #food tw

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calenheniel · 4 years

Text

Queen of the Ashes, a frozen fanfic | Part VIII

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | T+

They meet as children, each with a secret. Plagued by tragedy, their paths cross again many years later, and their secrets are unraveled.

Follow updates: #QueenoftheAshesFrozen

Read below, or find links to AO3/FF.Net/Wattpad on my Tumblr.

Author’s Note: I didn't intend for this chapter to end up as long as it is, hence the delay in publishing as it required more editing. Further updates are also likely on a biweekly basis as I balance a tight work schedule with this (my true passion). Thanks all for your support and readership.

»»————-　❈　————-««

VIII.

The queen did not sleep well the evening after her conversations with the prince and her sister.

Once her public – and private – meetings with the prince had become common knowledge, even solitude was unbearable for her, and she instructed her steward to pack her schedule to the brim. At first, she managed to keep clear of both the prince and princess for a day or two, and push the inconvenient thoughts and feelings to the back of her mind.

But where purposeful avoidance had been her modus operandi for so many years, she now found it ill-suited to drown out the chorus of whispers, murmurs, and rumors which increasingly pursued her through every nook and cranny of the castle. By the end of the week, she had missed two or three meetings, and instead spent them pacing in her room until snow whipped around her in a blinding flurry.

Her attendance at social events likewise dropped off, as she found that she could not help but stare with undisguised longing at the prince and princess from the other end of dinner tables and large rooms. She was too fearful to approach them publicly, but also too ashamed of her own avoidance to speak with them.

Whenever the urge struck her to try, she was stopped in her tracks by her father’s mantra.

Don’t let it show.

It was not until she received a discreet note under her door one evening that the queen paused to reconsider her current course of action – or inaction, as it were – as the sudden appearance of the small, folded paper stirred her from her endless brooding.

She plucked it from the floor, opening it with bated breath.

I hope you’re okay. I miss you.

She recognized her sister’s flowery script immediately, and pressed the page flat atop her dresser, rereading those two short sentences until the words in them became distorted.

Her face red, she sat down with a thud upon her chair, and belatedly noticed that the snow she had involuntarily conjured was suspended in the air.

She blinked in wonder at the sight, having only seen it happen a few times before; and after glancing at the note again, the snow and ice which had previously stuck to every surface of her room began to disappear.

Her mouth went agape for a moment, and then for an entire minute.

What’s missing for you?

It closed again, and she exhaled.

I miss you.

»» —— ««

Galvanized with a strange sense of purpose, the queen was too excited to sleep, and greeted the morning sun with restless eyes just as it rose over the horizon.

She slipped on her signature blue gloves – defrosted and cleaned – and pressed her crown atop her plaited hair as the final touch before stepping out, walking at a measured pace to the other end of the hallway. Once there, she dismissed the guards nearby and knocked lightly on the door, swallowing the lump of uncertainty that was stuck in her throat.

No answer to her knock came for a few seconds, which then turned into minutes.

Holding her head high, she knocked again, rapping her fingers harder against the wooden door. When she was met with more silence, she sighed, her head lowering in resignation.

In the same moment, the door creaked open, and the groggy, disheveled features of the princess appeared from behind it, the younger woman’s eyes squinting through the sleep that blurred them.

“Who is i—Elsa?” she said, yawning halfway through her question. She blinked slowly. “What are you doing here?”

The queen reddened, looking down. “I’m sorry, I know it’s early. I should’ve come later, but I…” She paused, her lips twisting. “I got your note, and I wanted to speak with you, and—”

“It’s fine,” the princess cut her off. “Just come inside. It’s awkward talking out here.” She gestured for her older sister to enter the bedroom with a tired wave, and the queen complied after a moment of hesitation.

She regarded the room with wide eyes, having not seen its interior in many, many years. It was only a little smaller than her own and had much of the same furniture, with one noticeable difference.

“It’s all very pink, I know,” the princess drawled, rubbing her eyes as she leaned against a bedpost, crossing her arms. “I bet you’re surprised it’s not messier than it is.”

The queen’s nose wrinkled as she tried not to smile. “I suppose Gerda makes sure that the maids keep it tidy.”

The princess smirked. “That’s right. You know it would be a nightmare if I had to clean it myself—just look at the state of my hair!” She poked at the mess of red curls atop her head with a sigh, her white streak still visible at the front.

The sight of it caused the queen’s smile to fade, and at the sudden change in mood, her younger sister’s brow rose. “Anyway, what was it,” she began before yawning again, half-covering her mouth, “that you wanted to talk to me about?” She glanced at her bed, and at the dresser opposite. “Do you want to sit down?”

The queen drew her arms closer to her. “Oh, that’s all right. I don’t mind standing.”

The princess shrugged. “Suit yourself. As for me, I’m just gonna lay back down here for a minute.” She flopped back onto her bed, propping herself up on her elbows, and threw her older sister a questioning look.

“You’re really not going to sit?”

Her older sister’s arms dropped to her sides and she relented, coming over to sit delicately on the chair by the bed. The princess nodded and ran her hands through her hair, trying to smooth it down.

“Good. Now, where were we?”

The queen’s brows stitched together in thought, her fingers interlacing to match. She glanced up at the princess, and then down again.

“I… came here to apologize. For how I left things the other night,” she explained, “and for not talking to you since. I’m sorry.”

The princess blinked. “Oh,” she said softly, her hands dropping to her sides. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that.” At her sister’s remorseful expression, she clarified: “I mean, I’m happy that you’re saying it, of course, it’s just—it’s not like I was upset at you over what happened.”

The queen matched her younger sister’s wide-eyed look. “You weren’t?”

“I mean, I was a little annoyed, sure,” the princess admitted, “but it’s not like this is the first time you’ve ever ignored me, either. Sorry to say, but… I’m kinda used to it.” Swallowing at the small, guilty frown her sister wore, she continued: “It’s like I said that night: I didn’t hear what Hans said to you, but it looked like whatever he said – or did – really upset you, so I figured that you just needed some space afterwards, and tried not to take it personally. I told him the same thing.”

“You… told Hans that?”

“Yep,” the princess said, rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes. “He really wanted to talk to you the last couple of days, but I told him to wait until you came around.” Her forehead crinkled. “Of course, I thought you would’ve done that by now, but you haven’t, so…”

The queen frowned at the comment, and the princess looked sheepish. “Not that you had to do anything, obviously—I’m not saying that. The point is that I could tell he was coming on a little too strong that night, and probably scared you off. Right?”

The queen’s frown deepened. “He didn’t scare me,” she retorted, crossing her arms. “He just doesn’t know when to stop talking. Or what boundaries are. And…” She paused, her eyes downcast. “It’s been hard, with all the rumors.”

The princess patted her sister’s hand. “I know, and I’ve gotten my share of that, too,” she empathized. “I think he gets it, you know? How people see him, and how people see him with you. He knows that it isn’t easy for you.”

“Did he tell you that?” the queen asked, her brow rising.

“Yes, actually,” her sister replied. “But I’m not blind, Elsa. In fact, I’m pretty sure I would recognize sooner than him when you’re feeling upset. That’s why I slipped you that note.”

The queen smiled a little. “It did make me feel better.”

The princess smiled back. “I figured it would, or at least I hoped that it would. I just didn’t want you to feel like you were alone.”

Her older sister’s lip trembled at the statement, and said nothing.

They sat in silence for a beat until the princess broke it, her playful smirk returning. “You know, it’s kind of funny: when Hans is with me, he’s pretty laid-back and easygoing, but when it comes to you, he gets so… intense. I can see why you might need breaks from him.”

The queen’s nose twitched. “That’s one way to put it.” She paused. “Did he tell you anything about that day?”

The princess shook her head. “No, not really. He’s very private about his conversations with you.” She eyed the queen with interest, and noted: “You’re the same, in that way.”

“Well, there’s nothing to say,” her sister snapped, and then collected herself, pinching her eyes shut. “Sorry, that came out the wrong way. I just meant—whatever happened, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have spoken to you, or ignored you, in the way that I did,” she continued, her tone contrite. “Or in the way that I have before.”

She stared at the princess. “He’s not the reason I’m here, Anna.”

“Isn’t he, though?”

The queen blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s be honest, Elsa. Would you even be sitting here in front of me right now, apologizing like this, if Hans hadn’t shown up at your coronation two weeks ago?”

Her gaze narrowed. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“Just imagine what would’ve happened if he’d never written to us that he was coming,” the princess said, “if he never came to Arendelle, and never stayed in the castle with us. Would we have been able to be together like this?” A slow, patient smile broke out on her lips. “I thought for sure you would’ve snapped by now, with everything going on and all these new people around – it’s so different from what we’re used to – but you’ve actually been handling it all really well.”

The younger woman’s expression grew thoughtful. “I still don’t know or understand what happened, exactly, but it was like something woke up inside of you when he arrived. You just… turned into this totally different person overnight. Someone I haven’t seen since we were kids.”

The queen sat stock-still in the chair, her face pinking.

The princess waited for her to gather her wits, which she did—but only after the room had grown so silent as for the ticking of the clock to become audible in the background.

“It can’t be because of him,” said the queen, her surroundings coming back into focus. “He hasn’t—”

“Been here long enough to affect you like that?” the princess finished. “Yeah… I think you might’ve said something like that a few times already.”

The color in the queen’s cheeks darkened at the comment. “Because it’s the truth. You and I were talking and seeing each other more before all this, while preparing for the coronation over the last few weeks. Him being here has nothing to do with it.”

“Elsa,” the princess began with a sigh, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but all that ‘talking’ and ‘seeing’ we did before he showed up was mostly passing each other in the hallways, or me trying to have a conversation with you and you trying to get out of it.” She added in a more serious tone: “I know it’s hard to admit that he could be the reason it’s happening, but… I don’t think there’s any harm in doing so. It might even make you feel better.”

The queen scoffed. “I doubt that.”

The princess frowned. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I could be right—that him being here is a good thing for us?”

The queen paused, looking away ruefully. “There are things that I wish I could tell you, Anna—things that are hard even for me to understand, or explain. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to do it. But right now…” She trailed off, looking at her gloved hands, and exhaled. “I have to figure it out on my own.”

“But that’s just the thing, Elsa: you don’t,” her sister pleaded, moving closer to her until she was on the edge of the bed. “You have me – and Hans – now. You don’t have to keep your distance anymore.”

The queen smiled sadly. “I know that—really, I do, Anna,” she replied, sounding tired. “But these things don’t happen overnight. You have to let me do them in my own time.”

The princess leaned back at the answer, her mouth twisting. “Thirteen years isn’t enough, huh? Fine. Take your time, then—as long as you need,” she snapped, “but don’t expect us to wait around for that to happen.”

Her older sister threw her a long, mournful look at the comment, but the princess ignored it, crossing her arms and glancing at the door.

“You can go, now. You probably have some work to attend to anyway, right?”

The queen’s hands, tense in her lap, crackled with anxious, cold energy—but she quickly clasped them together, her father’s words whipping across her thoughts like a harsh wind.

Don’t feel.

“I’ll see you later, Anna,” she said, her voice even and formal, and stood from her seat.

She paused once upright, staring at her sister one last time; when the princess refused to return the look, she finally turned and walked to the door, her fingers shaking as they made contact with the doorknob.

A small spark of ice alighted from them on the metal, and the sight caused her to swiftly open and close the door behind her in a panic, breathing unsteadily as she pressed her hands back at her sides.

Thirteen years isn’t enough, huh?

Tears welled in her eyes for a moment – but no longer than that – as the queen faced the endless corridor again, walking back towards the solitude of her bedchambers with heavy footsteps.

»» —— ««

The queen took her breakfast alone in her room later that same morning, declining to answer the curious look her servant had thrown her at the request.

Chastened by the discussion with her sister, she stared blankly at the food when it arrived. By the time she managed to eat a bit of her scrambled eggs, they were already cold; after several more disappointing bites followed in the same fashion, she pushed the plate away, feeling ill, her fingers tapping along her desk.

Trails of ice followed them until the edge of the wood was fairly frosted over, interrupted only by the knock and subsequent entry of the steward.

Her hand snapped back to her lap as she greeted him with indifference. “What is it?”

“You asked me to remind you a few days ago when our guests would start departing,” he said, not meeting her cold stare. “This is the reminder, Your Majesty.”

Guilt stung at her when she noticed his lowered eyes. “Ah, yes,” she said in a gentler way, rising from her desk. “I’m ready. They’re in the throne room, I take it?”

He nodded, finally looking at her. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He handed her a note. “Here is the list of the ones leaving today, for your reference.”

She came to stand at his side, forcing a smile onto her lips, and took the note from him. After scanning it quickly, she handed it back to him, and nodded towards the door.

“Let’s go, then.”

The steward bowed and followed her lead as she walked out, keeping a respectful distance between them, and in a few minutes they arrived in the throne room. A hush fell over the chattering queue as the queen took up her position at the front of it, standing a step above ground level by her throne.

Her smile was still in place even as she noted the looks of apprehension that some of the visitors leveled at her, and she motioned for the first diplomat to approach.

“Queen Elsa,” the Spanish ambassador began, bowing, “it’s been a true honor to stay with you over the last two weeks. We look forward to continuing discussions over the terms of the trade agreements with you and your council in the coming months, and in the meanwhile, I hope you will pay us a visit soon.”

His smile was as smooth as his speech, and she returned it with a strained version of her own. “Thank you, Ambassador. I hope so as well. I bid you farewell and a safe return journey home. Please pass on my regards to Their Majesties.”

He bowed again, moving to kiss her hand out of habit—but, seeing her gloved hands firmly clasped together in front of her, he merely nodded and was escorted out with his retinue.

She hid a frown as the next man came forward, bowing and beginning in a similar way.

“Your Majesty, thank you kindly for your hospitality and generosity in hosting my countrymen and I. We are only sorry that we could not stay longer to see the fireworks this evening, for I am sure they will be spectacular…”

As he droned on, the queen’s attention drifted back to the conversation with her sister.

Why is it so hard for you to believe that I could be right?

Her well-practiced smile dipped, hearing the princess’s voice echo in the room as clearly as it had that morning. The sound drowned out all others.

…that him being here is a good thing for us?

Her lips curled reflexively, causing the man in front of her to blink in surprise.

“Your Majesty? Have I said something—”

Take your time, then, as long as you need—but don’t expect us to wait around for that to happen.

“No, not at all,” she interrupted, her hands sweating inside of her gloves. Her cheeks were hot as she realized the line had grown shorter in her distraction, and she did not recognize the diplomat and his family who stared back at her. “I just—I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“But Your Majesty—”

The protest was no sooner heard than it was forgotten by the queen, who stepped down and walked away from the scene as if held in thrall by a spell of somnambulation. She did not manage even a parting nod or curtsy on her way out, nor did she pay heed to the offended grumblings and whispers of the snubbed nobles and their entourages still waiting to be received.

The alarmed expression of her steward was similarly ignored as she drifted towards the exit, her fingers twitching as her body perspired.

Conceal. Don’t feel.

The words grated on her as she passed through the long hallways and up endless stairways, and she pressed her hands to her ears, wincing.

Don’t let it show.

“Stop it,” she hissed, panting. Seeing the confused look a guardsman shot her, she realized she was already in front of her bedroom door, and reddened.

“You can go, Haakon.”

The older man’s brow furrowed. “But—”

“Please,” she said sharply, her teeth baring with the request. “I won’t ask again.”

He bowed and left his queen, who watched until he turned the corner to burst back into her room in a flurry of uninhibited wind and snow, the doors rattling shut behind her.

She breathed in great gasps and swallows of cold air, trying to calm herself down; at length, the wind quieted to a soft hum, though the snow remained intact.

The queen grimaced at the sight, and attempted to turn her thoughts back to the rest of her schedule for the day, the endless council meetings that awaited her, the books left on her reading list, or anything at all that wasn’t related to her furniture and shelves and window and carpet, all kissed by winter.

But nothing dispelled the chill in her heart, and as she sat upon her snow-dusted bed, she watched with resignation as ice crawled out from under her tired feet and hands and coated the peaks of snow piles.

»» —— ««

She kept to her quarters through lunch, refusing even a tray of food to be brought to her, croaking through the door that the steward should inform her expectant visitors that she was unwell and should not be disturbed.

One effort after the other to occupy herself failed miserably, and she was left either to pace in wide, furious circles, or to wallow on her mattress, her clothes, hair, and hands long since soaked through with sweat.

Every so often, she would pause by the window to watch the guests as they walked through the gates to the docks, boarding their ships, and sailing away. As they faded into the distance over the horizon line, she would return to her pacing, and another crackle of ice would crawl along the floor.

When the call for the final dinner of her coronation celebrations came, she dismissed it, ignoring the pleas from the steward and her maidservant. The queen gathered from their pleas that the guests had, by then, heard of her erratic display in the morning, and were displeased by her long absence since.

In contrast to her usual embarrassment upon hearing such news, however, she was utterly apathetic to it, and stared with a mix of fascination and dread as her ice coated the door, threatening to freeze over the handle and trap her inside.

She had not experienced her powers in such an uncontrollable state since she was a teenager, after learning of the death of her parents. Even then, she had had a measure of restraint in curbing the spread of the ice from going under her door, so that her sister would not catch a glimpse of it on the other side.

At present, she had no idea if the ice remained contained within her room, or if it had crept out into the hallway beyond. Although a part of her wanted to pretend that she did not care if it had, and accept the consequences of her secret being discovered, the sound of the door handle rattling as the ice drew closer caused a twinge of instinctive panic to run through her.

Don’t let it show.

She rose from her bed with a start, a wild look in her eyes as she cleared a footpath through the snow to the door with a burst of icy wind, and then cracked it open, peering into the hallway to make sure she was alone.

Conceal.

Still drenched from sweat, the queen dragged the hem of her dress along the ground as she broke out into a half-jog, her thoughts jumbling to the point that she did not know where one ended and another began.

Don’t feel.

She winced whenever she reached a corner, looking over her shoulder to check for any unfriendly eyes that might witness her frenzied state. However, when she remembered that all of the guests were out on the lawn waiting for the fireworks to begin, she slowed to a brisk walk, becoming less careful in her wanderings and even grabbing a candelabra off the wall to help light her way.

After some time had passed – how much, she could not tell – she came to a stop in front of a tall, dark door, her breathing short and quick.

Conceal.

It was her father’s voice that had said it, it seemed, and she blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at the door.

“The study,” she drawled, her left hand absently slipping into the pocket of her dress. It pulled out her keyring a moment later, still moist to the touch, and she held it up at eye level, fingering through the keys until she reached the one desired. She slid it into the keyhole of the door without so much as a jingle echoing in the hall, and entered the dark room just as discreetly.

Inside, the queen peered into the darkness, eyeing the familiar trappings of her father’s private chambers without her customary hesitation. She rifled through the papers on her father’s desk, creating creases and tears and piles on the floor as she went; took off and examined old, dusty swords from the walls, then sent them clattering to the ground; and pulled out every drawer from every table in sight, allowing them to topple over when she deemed them useless.

Finally, she turned her attention to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and to these she paid greater reverence, merely brushing her hand along the spines. She squinted at their titles, blowing off dust from the oldest tomes in order to make their text legible.

At times, she would remove one from the shelf, and gently peruse its contents—only to put it back in place after a few minutes, increasingly dissatisfied and anxious.

Don’t feel.

“I know, Papa!” the queen snapped at the empty air; several snowflakes followed the echoes of her voice. She sighed, tucking strands of her matted blonde hair behind her ears. “Let me alone. Please.”

The air became still again, and she resumed her search.

As the minutes dragged on and she grew no closer to discovering what she sought, she leaned her head against the shelf in defeat, her body slumping down until she was sitting on the floor, staring up at her grandfather’s portrait through the flames of the candelabra on the desk.

“There’s no use for it,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “I will never be free of it. Papa, Mama, I’m sor—”

Her back suddenly prickled at the sensation of a book pressing against it, and then sliding backwards into the shelf. Her eyes reopened, glancing behind her; shuffling to the side, she rubbed the small of her back with one hand, and pulled out the offending book with the other.

It was thicker in size than the ones around it, and its color a deep red that stood out even in the darkness of her shadow. She propped the book up on her knees, staring with surprise as she realized that, even with her many years of language studies, she could not fully translate the cover text comprised of ancient runes.

Opening the book, she found that everything was written in the same archaic script, and she frowned as she skimmed the pages, only able to make out basic words and phrases. There were a few illustrations included, mostly of natural landscapes. She came to recognize some as ancient maps of her kingdom, wondering at the images of old forests and lizard-shaped fire spirits that no longer inhabited her world.

At length, she came across a picture that provoked her to gasp, her heartbeat slowing to one, long thump.

It was an illustration of an old king lying prone upon a stone slab, his red cape draped over the side and his eyes closed. A small, dark, menacing creature stood behind him with yellow eyes, its strange hands lifted over the king’s body as if in incantation. Smoke billowed out from the king’s forehead and joined a foreboding cloud or aurora borealis above them of green and blue and purple, framed on either side by tall, black, leafless trees.

“Anna,” the queen whispered, still breathless. Her eyes darted all over the page and its accompanying text, and she rose from her seat, laying the book flat atop the mess of papers she had created on her father’s desk.

As she scrabbled and splayed her hands across the pages, another paper slid out from behind the picture—and as she retrieved and unfolded it, the sight within caused a small smile to break out on her lips, her throat choking on a triumphant laugh.

She barely kept her trembling hands from tearing the page in two.

“I—” she said, her breathing quickening, “I have to tell him.”

Without hesitation, the queen refolded it and tucked it into the book to mark the location of the illustration, pressing the tome under her arm as she grabbed the candelabra with her other hand, and fled the room.

»» —— ««

The queen stood in front of the prince’s door, out of breath, her hand raised to knock on it—and then withdrew it to her side, struck by the thought that she had no idea if he was even inside.

Embarrassed, she took a step back, and then another; when her foot moved backwards for a third time, she bumped into the door behind her with an audible thunk from the heavy book under her arm, and she jumped at the sound.

His door opened in the next moment, and his eyes widened upon seeing her.

“Elsa?”

She swallowed, turning halfway towards the hallway. “I’m sorry, I was just going—”

“No—please, don’t,” he said, and opened his door wider. “Do you want to come in?”

She stared with trepidation at the dimly-lit interior, her eyes darting between it and the empty hallway to her right. Eventually, her posture sank a little, bowing her head as she entered.

Inside, his quarters looked like any of the other guest rooms of the castle: a mixture of light and dark blue bedsheets and rugs, and plain white furnishings and walls otherwise. She looked around with a touch of the same interest she had at her sister’s room that morning, noting that the décor had hardly changed since the prince’s first visit to her country, when he was still a child.

The notion caused her face to pale.

“Are you all right, Elsa?”

Startled by his voice, she whipped around to face him, nearly dropping the book. “I—I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he remarked, drawing closer and inspecting her disheveled, sweat-licked features. “What happened?” He glanced at the book. “And what is that?”

Her mouth grew dry. “It’s nothing,” she mumbled. “I really shouldn’t be here.”

“It can’t be ‘nothing’ if you’ve come to see me, alone, in this state,” he countered, his brow rising.

Another drop of perspiration beaded on her forehead. “Shouldn’t you be out with the others?” she asked, glancing behind him at the window. The first firecracker had just been released, whistling through the sky and popping, causing her to wince. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve never liked fireworks—they’re too loud,” he replied, and crossed his arms. “You’re trying to change the subject. Why?”

She grimaced as the weight of the book seemed to drag her entire body down. “I’m—” she paused, and sighed shakily as she held it towards him. “I didn’t know who else to talk to about this.”

He took it from her gently, examining the spine and cover. “Younger Futhark,” he said, his fingers tracing the embossed runes.

She blinked. “You can read it?”

He shrugged. “Not well. I assume it was the same for you?”

“Yes. I only managed a few words here and there, but…”

She trailed off as she watched the prince find her bookmarked page, his eyes wide – and then intent – as they stared at the same illustration that had taken her breath away only a few minutes earlier.

“Is this…?”

“Yes,” she replied, and pointed to the loose paper tucked in the centerfold. “I found that behind the picture.” As he opened it, she explained: “I think it’s the map my father used to find the Valley of the Living Rock, where the trolls live. The ones that changed Anna’s memories.”

He studied the picture, map, and runes for a time, and then turned to her. “Where did you find this, Elsa?”

“My father’s study. It was tucked away on a bottom shelf, out of plain sight. I only found it by accident.”

“And what were you doing in there?” he asked. “It didn’t seem like a place you spend much time in, the last time we spoke in that room.”

Some color returned to her cheeks as she frowned. “It’s not, but—” Ice pricked at her fingertips, damp and bare, and she closed her hands into fists. “Between our last conversation, and everyone talking about us afterwards, and then this morning, when I upset Anna by accident… I haven’t been able to control it, Hans,” she confessed, her voice dropping to a whisper as snowflakes began to fall around her. “It’s just getting worse and worse, and I keep pushing everyone away.”

The queen’s gaze alighted on the tome with renewed determination. “I thought that maybe I could find something in the study that could help me. And I did, in this book.” She plucked the map from him, holding it up. “With this, I can go back to the Valley, and tell the trolls what’s happened. If they changed Anna’s memories, then surely their magic must be powerful, and they could even help rid me of mine.”

The prince’s expression became unreadable. “Then… what’s stopping you, Elsa? Why come here, instead of going straight into the mountains?”

Conceal.

Her mouth went limp. “I—I just…”

“I’m sorry that I’ve made things difficult for you—truly, I am,” he continued. “I never intended to cause you this kind of distress or pain. And I can assure you that no matter how upset Anna seemed with you this morning, she would forgive your trespasses, because she loves you.”

He paused. “But none of this justifies what you’re planning on doing.”

The queen’s jaw tightened. “How can you say that? If you really understood how ‘difficult’ things are for me here, you would be offering to take me to the Valley yourself.”

He frowned. “If they couldn’t take your powers away the first time, what makes you think they can now? Or that they would?”

“It’s worth trying, anyway,” she said, flustered. She gestured at the snow, which fell interminably. “Anything is better than this.”

“I’m just asking you to think about it, Elsa,” he implored. “Did they help Anna by altering her memories? Did they make your life easier, or better, by leaving yours intact?” His frown relaxed as his tone grew gentler. “Don’t you ever think they might have left you with your powers, and your memories, for a reason?”

She was struck silent by the questions, and looked down, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Don’t feel.

He stepped closer until he was just hovering over her. “Even if it somehow all worked,” he said softly, tipping her chin up to meet his gaze, “don’t you understand what it would mean?”

He tilted his head towards the window, where one firecracker after the other exploded into shades of red and green and pink against the night sky, the applause and “ooh’s” and “aah’s” from the crowd audible from inside the room.

“You’d be just like everyone else.”

She slapped his hand away from her face, pushing him back as her eyes sparked with rage. “And that’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she snapped, her ice streaking out from under her in jagged lines along the floors. “To be like them—to be normal.”

He watched the ice warily, shaking his head. “You just think that’s what you want, because you’ve never been allowed to see your powers as anything but a curse.”

Don’t let it show.

“You don’t know anything!” she cried, snow whipping around her in a furious squall. “You could never understand what this has been like for me—what I’ve done, or what I am capable of, still. You say you’re not afraid, but I can see it plainly right now, in the way you’re looking at me—”

“I’m not, Elsa,” he insisted, and drew closer to the queen, even as her ice began to surround her in thick, tall walls. “If you would just stop this, and listen—”

She thrust her hands out in front of her to keep him away, and her ice followed the movement, shooting out towards the prince in spikes as sharp as knives.

She screamed at the sight, clutching her hands back to her chest and closing her eyes, her chest heavy with terror; but in the same instant, the ice that surrounded her was obliterated, and she was blown back onto the floor by an powerful, pulsating hot wind.

The queen saw black for a moment, her head lolling on the carpet.

“Elsa.”

It was a voice she knew, but it was distant, calling to her as if from across an ocean of fire.

“Elsa.”

It was closer, then—close enough that she knew it was the prince’s voice, and not her father’s, as she groaned, sweat dripping from every pore of her body. She opened one eye, and then another, with herculean effort, propping herself up on her elbows.

She squinted through a haze of dark shapes, feeling the same hot wind as before sweep across her skin, and the scent of burning wood enter her nostrils.

“Smoke,” she murmured to herself as the room came into focus, her eyes widening.

The ice and snow she had conjured were all melting, as if the sun had just returned after a long winter, and she scrambled up until her palms were on the floor, keeping her steady.

“But how—”

“Elsa.”

Her head shot up and found the prince standing in the center of the room, wreathed in flames.

She watched with her mouth agape as his hand reached forward and retracted the fire and smoke through his outstretched hand, standing calm and still all the while. When they were gone, no part of him seemed harmed, for not even a single hair on his head or thread of his clothing was singed—nor was there a single sear or mark upon the walls or furniture in the room.

He approached her with that same, quiet force, crouching down to her level once he was only a few feet from her.

She recoiled from his nearness, pressing herself up against the wall by the door, her knees instinctively curling in towards her stomach. Sweat still beaded on her skin and trickled down her neck in long lines, disappearing below the collar of her dress, and her mind raced.

“I—I knew it,” she stammered, her lip trembling. “It was you, wasn’t it? The boy from the story.”

“Yes, it was.”

She shook her head, her features growing wan from shock and horror. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The prince paused. “I thought I was waiting until I had gained your trust, but I can see, now, that it was the other way around.” He grimaced. “To be honest, I didn’t think there was ever going to be a good time to tell you. So I didn’t.”

The queen’s mouth contorted as she swallowed bile. “Because you killed them—your father, your brothers,” she rasped, licking her lips. “Those were no accidents.”

His brow furrowed. “No, they weren’t; not all of them, anyway. But I can explain—”

“Explain what, Hans? Regicide? Fratricide?” She dragged herself up from the floor to stand, scowling darkly at the prince. “There is no defense for murder, whatever your reasons might be.”

His gaze narrowed at the queen as he stood. “You say that without knowing anything about it—and isn’t that exactly what you’ve been accusing me of, all this time? Judgment without understanding?”

Her ire swelled, though she was too exhausted to summon even a single snowflake as she struggled to stay upright. “Don’t try to turn this on me,” she spat, seething. “You’ve committed criminal acts for which you should be—”

“What—tried? Convicted? Hanged?” he finished. “I showed those bastards mercy with a death by fire, compared to what I endured at their hands.”

“Immolation is ‘mercy’ to you, Hans?” she asked, and shuddered. “How can I believe you, after seeing this? You’ve been lying to me since the first moment you stepped foot in Arendelle, fifteen years ago.”

He grew quiet at the accusation, his hands clenching at his sides; then, they reached up and began to untie his cravat and unbutton the top of his shirt.

The queen flushed. “What are you—”

The prince parted his collar to reveal a deep black scar on his skin—a scar, she realized, which continued down his chest as he undid one button after the other.

He paused a few inches above his lower ribs, and his hands dropped back to his sides. “It goes all the way down to my navel,” he said at length. “One of my oldest brothers, Antoni, snuck up on me while I was asleep and pressed a hot poker against my chest. He said I shouldn’t feel any pain, since I was a demon sent from Hell.”

His hand hovered over the scar, but did not touch it. “As it turned out, I did feel pain – tremendous pain, actually – which came as a surprise to me, but not to him. After all, what did I know, at ten years old? Maybe I was a demon.”

A rueful smile played on his lips.

“Though it was hard to imagine Hell being any worse than the Southern Isles.”

#helsa #QueenoftheAshesFrozen #frozen #frozen fanfiction

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todisturbtheuniverse · 4 years

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FIC: Set All Trappings Aside [4/8]

Rating: T Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Pairing: f!Adaar/Josephine Montilyet Tags: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Class Differences Word Count: 3800 (this chapter) Summary: After months of flirtation, a contract on Josephine’s life brings Adaar’s feelings for her closer to the surface than ever. It highlights, too, all of their differences, all of the reasons a relationship between them would not last. But Adaar is a hopeful woman at heart; if Josephine can set all trappings aside, then so can she. Also on AO3. Notes: While the context for this story is the Of Somewhat Fallen Fortune questline, some of the conversations within it didn’t quite fit for this Inquisitor. The resulting fic is a twist on the canon romance. This Adaar and Josephine have featured in other fics, so you may miss a little context if you haven’t read Promising or Truth-Telling, which both come before this one.

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3

"Hmm."

Josephine looked up from the letter held flat beside her plate. Leliana, just across the table from her, scrutinized her with narrow eyes.

"Hmm?" Josephine echoed, raising one eyebrow.

"I recognize that bauble. The Inquisitor sent it to you some time ago, didn't she?"

Josephine reached up to touch the piece of fire agate dangling from her hair, and though it would only encourage Leliana, she glanced at the empty throne at the end of the keep. Not that Adaar ever sat in that chair a second longer than absolutely necessary, but it did seem a reminder of her absence.

How keenly Josephine missed her, worse and worse every time she departed Skyhold now. There had been times these last few weeks that she'd been convinced she'd heard Adaar's voice in the distance, perhaps just striding into the keep, her smile weary from the road. But every time, moments and then hours passed, and she did not appear at Josephine's desk; she did not appear in the keep for dinner; she had not returned.

"She did," Josephine said, looking back to the letter, though its significance was all a jumble now.

Leliana sighed—a tiny sound, just loud enough for Josephine to hear over the low murmur of the keep—and leaned forward. "I am surprised something new has not arrived from this excursion."

There had been something new. Josephine had just taken precautions. The pretty piece of sea glass had arrived in a letter, which Leliana knew about; it had been addressed to all Adaar's advisors, after all. Josephine had simply taken the liberty of opening it first, away from other prying eyes, to avoid questions at the war table.

Not that she expected trinkets. Just...hoped, given Adaar's past habits. Even more delightful this time had been the small additional scrap of paper, rolled into the larger letter, addressed just to her.

"I'm sure she has more serious matters to attend to," Josephine said.

"Josephine…"

"Leliana," she returned. "I have not changed my mind about this."

"You still believe she has no feelings for you." Leliana's brow furrowed with disbelief.

"Certainly I think she has some feeling for me," Josephine corrected. "I believe we are good friends, beyond our official roles. She has said as much."

In truth, though, she had begun to wonder if maybe there was more to it. She couldn't say as much to Leliana; it would only goad her into more speculation. But she had seen Adaar look at her, now and then, and sometimes that look made her question if...maybe. Maybe Adaar missed her as much as she missed Adaar, maybe in the same way, maybe…

"Then what are all these for?" Leliana said, and reached across the table to flick the fire agate with one finger.

"You and I exchange gifts." Josephine stilled the swaying chain. "Do you have some unrevealed romantic interest in me?"

"On holidays," Leliana said, with a roll of her eyes. "And nothing so…" She pursed her lips, thinking. "Tokenish."

"If she has such feelings, why hasn't she said as much?" Josephine replied dismissively, even as her heart gave a sad little pang.

She'd thought, maybe, that they were working up to such a conversation during their last meal together. Adaar had a way of saying things as if she was not serious, or exaggerating, but she had looked at Josephine so earnestly as she paid her that last compliment. Or was Josephine only seeing what she wanted to see, a reflection of her own feelings and hopes rather than the truth?

It didn't matter, in the end. They had been interrupted, any potential conversation cut short. And Josephine had been left more confused than ever.

"Perhaps she is not sure of your feelings, and fears to act when they might be unwanted," Leliana said. "It would make things very awkward if you did not feel the same."

"Yes, it would," Josephine said pointedly.

Leliana sat back, frustration evident in the way she picked up her goblet. "I think it is obvious in the way that she has handled the House of Repose that there is something there."

"Your opinion has been noted, as always."

Leliana sighed again. "I only want you to think about it, Josie. If she does say something...what would your answer be? What would you do?"

This, finally, gave her pause. "Do you think it's a bad idea?"

Leliana sipped from her goblet, as if considering, though Josephine was sure that her mind had already been made up. "No worse than many ideas that have been pursued lately."

"A resounding endorsement," Josephine said dryly.

Finally, Leliana smiled. "If you care for her, and she cares for you...then I would be glad that you had found some happiness, especially in the midst of all this. I just don't want you to be caught off guard. Or hurt."

Leliana was too much like an older sister, sometimes. "I am happy," Josephine protested. "As happy as one can be when the world is coming apart at the seams, at least."

"I think you could be happier. That is all."

She did not want to give Leliana any further opportunity to dig at this. Not right now. She gathered up her letters and stood, leaving her picked-over dinner plate. "I appreciate your concern, but we also have more serious matters to attend than my love life. We've already given it too much time."

Leliana's eyes danced. "I disagree. But, fine. I am sure you have things to set in order before you leave for Val Royeaux." At Josephine's questioning look, she added, "The Inquisitor is still expected tomorrow. You might set out the day after, I hope, and end this business before anything unpleasant happens."

"If Minister Bellise is amenable," Josephine agreed, and took her leave, retreating to the quiet and safety of her office. She nodded a hello to the guard stationed outside as she passed.

But even after the door was shut, even when she had settled behind her desk and sat a moment listening to the silence, the questions raised by Leliana's poking and prodding remained, distracting her.

She loosed the clasp on her belt pouch and tipped the piece of sea glass into her hand. In the firelight, the shades of blue and green changed, acquiring a new depth. She kept it in her hand as she searched out Adaar's letter, unrolling it with care to preserve the worn paper, and read it over again.

Lady Josephine—

Please excuse me for sending you another useless bauble. As you know, I can't help but pick up whatever shiny thing I stumble across. Since you have indulged me so far, I will intrude on your good graces a little while longer. This reminded me a bit of your eyes, though it still falls significantly short.

I hope that you are keeping safe. I should be able to return to Skyhold soon, but until then, do not stand too close to any windows.

Yours,

Adaar

She wondered—allowed herself to wonder, for the first time since that conversation in the wagon weeks ago—if this was how Adaar's father had courted her mother, long ago. If Leliana was right, and these were more than casual, flirtatious overtures.

It was not poetry and flowers, but these trinkets, these brief compliments spoken from smiling lips or written in a deliberate hand, had a far greater effect on her than any sonnet ever had.

She unearthed another piece of parchment from her desk. The copy had already been sent off to Val Royeaux with precise instructions; the commission would be nearly complete by now. It would be ready by the time they arrived in the city. Whether Adaar was successful in petitioning Minister Bellise to ratify the papers that would make the Du Paraquettes nobles or not, she had gone to a great deal of trouble to help Josephine overturn this contract. She deserved thanks.

And, if Josephine had not overstepped with this gift, perhaps they would return to that conversation that she half-hoped, half-feared to have.

She gathered herself and set personal matters aside, though she kept the sea glass in hand as she returned to her work. As the night wore on, she sorted through more of the day's letters: more information, more requests, more demands for help. She organized, took notes, put down her initial thoughts and suggestions, strategized.

It was later, much later, when she heard the scuffle outside her door. She mistook it for the scratch of the wind against Skyhold's walls, at first. Only when the scuffling persisted, contrary to the sound of the wind itself, did she realize that something had gone awry. Something thumped in the hallway, barely audible, muffled, maybe inconspicuous, but—

But.

She scrambled beneath her desk, pulling her skirts in so that they were well-hidden. Her heart swelled in her throat, pounding. Her fingers clenched around something; in the remaining light from the fireplace, she looked down to see the sharp length of a letter opener clutched in her right hand. She'd grabbed it by reflex, the closest thing resembling a weapon, and now she crouched like an animal reduced to base instinct.

Foolish. She exhaled, tucked the letter opener into her sash so that she could use it if necessary—only if necessary—and listened for the door to open, the sea glass still held tight in the palm of her left hand

With a creak, it swung wide. No knock. That boded ill, she thought, but she hoped it was just a messenger who hadn't learned how to properly deliver reports.

A soft footstep, and then a second. "Come, Ambassador," a voice said. "This is beneath both of us. There is one hiding place in this room, and I did not hear you flee to the war table."

She was not light of foot, like Leliana, like Adaar. They would know that.

She took a steadying breath and straightened up with all the dignity she could muster, eyes searching for a drawn blade. She left the letter opener in her sash. In truth, she had only ever wielded a single weapon with any mastery: words. She would just have to hope that she had practiced enough to survive this battle.

The man standing just inside her office, in front of a newly closed door, was utterly anonymous. Barely her height, and slight of build, his face concealed by a mask. He had dressed very like one of their scouts—perhaps how he had penetrated so deep into Skyhold. Surely he had not donned the mask until his route to her was clear.

"You have been busy," he commented. No weapons in his hands, no blood on his fingers. The contract was only for her; perhaps her guard was safe, just knocked out. "Moving pieces here and there, begging favors; we are impressed."

"Thank you," she said politely. "It has been an undertaking, but it is nearly complete." A pointed reminder of the brief respite she had been offered, more than a month ago. She had made progress; perhaps this was only yet another warning—

"I fear there has been a setback," he said, nearly apologetically.

Her stomach fluttered. "A setback?"

"Minister Bellise." He tutted. "A nut that is too hard to crack, even for you."

She would not beg for more time. Negotiate, yes, but not beg. She lifted her chin. "I believe you underestimate me."

"You? No, no, of course not. But the Inquisitor is the one who must make your case to the Minister, yes? Her Worship is a dangerous foe, but a petition like this requires a sharp tongue, not a blade." She thought she glimpsed a smile in his eyes, even through the holes of the mask. "Or six, even."

As close as the House of Repose had been watching her, they must not have been watching Adaar at all. If they had looked, if they had seen, they would have known how convincing she could be. How relentless.

"She is perfectly capable of negotiating on my behalf," Josephine said firmly. "I trust her completely."

"It is no longer your trust that matters, my lady."

His hand was in motion, flicking a knife from his sleeve, into his palm, into the air; instinctively, she threw herself aside, but this had clearly been his intention. Now she was on the floor, and he was standing over her, fast, so fast, another glinting knife in his hand, plunging down.

She grabbed at his arm, holding it at bay with all of her strength. The sea glass fell from her hand. She was not a fighter. She had turned away from that path long, long ago, and even now she would not have changed it. But she was strong enough to try to hold him off, to fight for her life. If it had been Adaar in her place, one of those clever hidden knives would have already found the gap between this man's ribs.

But Josephine had lost this battle. Words had bought her a little time, but in the end, they had failed. The knife inched closer even as she tried to push it away. She thought of Adaar, Adaar's liquid dark eyes, her quick and easy smile. If only there had been more time, if only—

The assassin gasped. His body went limp, his arm no longer resisting as she shoved it away. He collapsed in a heap beside her, facedown. A blade came free from his back as he fell.

Adaar stood over her, a dripping-blood dagger in her hand, as if summoned by what should have been Josephine's final thoughts. There was a terrible look on Adaar's face, one very hard to put a name to.

"I'm all right," Josephine said, hastening to reassure, though her voice shook. Awkwardly, she pushed herself up to sit.

Adaar reached down to her with the hand not holding the dagger, and Josephine took it, allowing Adaar to heave her to her feet. She swayed a little once she was there, unsteady. Adaar dropped the bloody dagger—it clattered, loudly, on the stone—and folded her arms around Josephine, turning her face to press into Josephine's hair. Josephine didn't think, didn't wonder, only wrapped her shaking arms around Adaar's neck and held on tight.

"Are you sure," Adaar whispered; Josephine had never heard her voice like that, so afraid, so tremulous. "He didn't—"

Josephine shook her head. "You came in time." A laugh rattled out of her. The shock beginning, probably.

Adaar had stooped to embrace Josephine, but now she straightened, lifting Josephine's feet off the floor as though she weighed nothing at all. She carried Josephine away from the body, toward the fire; Josephine felt its warmth at her back, driving out the chill that had crawled up her spine.

Adaar set her down at the hearth and pulled back, hands curled around Josephine's shoulders. The touch was nice, grounding, and Josephine reached up to return it, to steady herself on Adaar's arms.

"You weren't due to arrive until tomorrow," she said.

"I went ahead of the others." Adaar sounded a little steadier, though her eyes searched Josephine's face as if expecting to find some mortal wound there. "I couldn't sleep another night out there, not knowing whether you were safe."

Despite the fear of the last few moments, something in her stomach curled and clenched to know that Adaar had thought of her, had worried for her.

"I'm here," Josephine managed, though it seemed a paltry thing to offer. "I'm safe."

Adaar cupped her hands around Josephine's face and gazed down at her, her dark eyes bleak. "If anything had happened to you…"

Her voice broke, and Josephine remembered her daydreams of a few hours before. Remembered the trinkets that Adaar sent her from the road, and the minutes and hours of conversation stolen between their respective duties, and the looks. The looks that she sometimes saw and told herself she was imagining.

She was not imagining this look. Adaar looked at her like something precious that had nearly been lost forever, and Josephine was still distracted by that, by the fierce intensity in Adaar's dark eyes, when Adaar bent her head and kissed her.

She did not have to think about her reaction. She did not have to think about anything. She only felt: felt the passion in the way Adaar's mouth moved against hers, felt the blood in her veins set afire in the wake of Adaar's hand smoothing down her spine, felt Adaar's shocked intake of breath when Josephine pressed closer, pressed to her.

She'd never imagined it could feel like this. Like her body was sparkling, brimming, overflowing, all from Adaar's lips on hers, from Adaar's arms holding her. Those brief courtships in Val Royeaux felt all the duller by comparison. No kiss stolen behind a tapestry had ever been like this kiss, so desperate, and fierce, and breathless with want. Adaar touched her cheek, tilted her head, parted Josephine's lips with the lightest touch of her tongue; Josephine clung to Adaar's neck like she might drown otherwise, fingers tangled in the length of Adaar's braid—

But Adaar stilled and pulled away, and shook her head at Josephine's noise of protest. "Wait," she breathed, looking toward the door.

There were footsteps in the corridor, Josephine realized, picking up speed. A voice shouted, "Guard down!"

Adaar let her go, reaching up to draw her remaining dagger. She pulled a knife from the folds of her armor and palmed the hilt in her left hand. "Stay behind me," she said. Josephine did not argue, did not have the breath in her to argue; she retreated behind Adaar, head still reeling.

A scout burst into the room. Josephine recognized him; he had been recruited while the Inquisition was still in Haven. Adaar clearly knew him, too, because she lowered her blades, just a fraction. His eyes darted to the body and widened.

"Get Leliana," she said, the waver gone from her voice; now it was very nearly a growl. "Now."

The scout ran right back out. Adaar let her arms fall to her sides, but she did not relax. She had been liquid in Josephine's arms just a moment ago, but now every muscle was tense again.

Tentatively, Josephine reached up to touch Adaar's shoulder. It was rigid beneath her hand.

"I doubt there will be more," she said, trying to offer some reassurance. "At least tonight."

"And once they know that this one failed?" Adaar nodded to the body.

"Yes," Josephine said reluctantly. "Then there will be more."

Adaar turned enough to face her, but still positioned so that she could watch the door. "We had an agreement."

"I know we did, but we're so close." In the right circumstances, she was not above begging. This qualified. "The Minister will be at a party in Val Royeaux. If we leave tomorrow—if you can just convince her—"

"How can I possibly allow that?" Adaar asked, but she didn't sound angry. Despite how taut she was drawn, her face contorted with misery. "How can I live with myself if I allow it? Leliana told me that your blood would be on my hands if this went south, and if I had been a moment later, she'd have been right." Adaar stepped back, putting space between them. Josephine's hand fell away, pointlessly, to her side. "Better to have you angry with me than dead."

"Leliana said…" Oh, that woman. Josephine would have words with her later. Stern words. "You know that isn't true. This was my choice. My decision."

"That will help me sleep so much easier if I'm too late next time," Adaar said bitterly.

"It is only a little while longer—"

"I've waited weeks. Before, I just had my guilt. Just worry about what might happen. Now I have evidence." Adaar pointed one dagger at the body. "If they can get into Skyhold, they can certainly attack you as we travel."

"We will send plenty of protection with you," a voice said from the door.

Leliana stood there, looking down at the body of the guard; a few others crowded behind her, one kneeling. "Alive," he announced, taking his fingers from the fallen guard's throat. "Just knocked out."

"Take her to the infirmary," Leliana said.

"I'm sorry," Adaar interrupted. Josephine recognized her temper, usually so slow to start, was perilously close to boiling over. "Maybe I got knocked out, too. What's this about protection?"

"It is as far to travel, either way," Leliana said, stepping into Josephine's office. Two guards took up positions outside the door. The rest hurried away. "Sneak in to destroy the contract, or speak to Minister Bellise—we no longer have the advantage of time with one or the other. We may as well do this Josie's way."

"I can't believe this," Adaar said, voice rising with disbelief. "An assassin slipped into Skyhold on your watch, but now you're willing to carry on with this? After everything you said to me?"

"We can only go forward, not back," Leliana said, as collected and unruffled as ever, and looked to Josephine. "You should leave at first light. As early as possible. I will send some of my people with you, in case these talks with Minister Bellise do not go as expected." She turned her gaze on Adaar again. "You will be able to deal with the House of Repose, if necessary."

For once, Adaar looked at a loss for words; her mouth opened and closed, as if she couldn't give voice to her anger.

"I can still do this," Josephine said, one last plea. "I swear to you, it will be over soon, and you can rest easy."

It was the wrong thing to say. Adaar's face shuttered; the anger went out of her, but so too did everything else. For the first time, Josephine noticed the hollows under her eyes, the untidiness of her braid, the film of dust on her armor. She looked a step from falling down, and like Josephine's words might have been enough to push her.

"I see that I am now the one outnumbered." It wasn't anger that rode her quiet voice; it was hurt, confusion, fear.

"Herah," Josephine began, but Adaar was already moving toward the door.

"First light," she said, and with a last, unreadable look back at Josephine, she vanished into the keep.

For a moment, the room rang with the silence of her departure. Josephine's pulse was uneven, her fingers clenched tight into her palms. She could not look at Leliana, not with so much confusion and guilt churning inside her; she looked at the body instead, and saw something glimmering in the firelight beside it.

She went to scoop up the precious sea glass, tucking it safely away in her belt pouch.

"She will forgive you," Leliana said. Her voice sounded strangely far away. The shock, again, now that there was none of Adaar's warmth to hold it at bay.

Josephine did not think it would be that easy.

Go to Chapter 5 -->

#josephine montilyet #inquisitor adaar #f!adaar x josephine #f!adaar/josephine #dragon age #inquisition #friends to lovers #mutual pining #class differences #developing relationship #universe writes

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byeolbitsky · 5 years

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Calling for You

Genre/Warnings: Fanfiction, Random, Apocalypse, Zombies etc. Contains blood, Gore, Violence, Character Death, Cursing, Mature Content, maybeee rape? or mention of it.

Characters: Seventeen & OC’s, Kpop Idols.

"All this time, I thought I had you figured out and I knew who you finally are, you show me a different side of you that even the closest Person to you didn't know about."

It would have happened sooner or later but for it to happen this soon was a Surprise for everyone. No one, not even the Goverment or the Scientists would have predicted that. The Virus had spread, way too early and for it to be able to spread meant that someone had freed it from its convines and that meant that someone from the Corporation had stolen it before they could test the Virus out and make a Cure for it, if needed.

"What is going on?" "Why are People attacking People?" "What are you doing?! Stop!"

Panic, Blood, Violence, Screams, Fear and Gun Shots are the haunting sounds of day and night everyone will have to encounter from that day onwards.

25th of June

Everything went like every single day, at least until that moment.

The Idols were all scathered around in the Halls, some recording themselves for their fans, some of them taking pictures together and then there were some that interacted with their Fans through the windows, waving at them with smiles on their faces.

Today would be the last day for Seventeen's Promotion and their Stage was planned to happen a little bit later on.

They saw some Fan's walking in and out of the Broadcasting station and probably waiting for their turn to cheer for their Idols.

Just like any other day... it seems, until the TV's showed the news.

Chapter One - Start and Explanations

25th, June

"I have nothing to say...?" Jihoon waved his hands infront of his face, trying to avoid the Camera Seungkwan was holding but the younger boy was persistent in filming the small boy infront of him.

"Woozi doesn't seem to be in the mood today, so moving on... HOSHI!" The Camera swung around and landed on the boy's surprised face which was stuffed with food. The snacks he had in his hands immediately laid down on the table infront of him, and pushed aside only to be devoured by the giant sitting next to him.

"We just caught Hoshi pigging out on the snacks we brought." Jeonghan snickered behind the Camera, Hoshi pouting at the elder one's remark. "He is going to gain those chubby cheeks back again, if he continues that is." Seungcheol walked over to Hoshi and Mingyu, only to snatch a few of the snacks away from the giant's grabby hands.

"We only have like 20 Minutes until we have to go out for a Rehearsal." Wonwoo informed everyone as soon as he walked into their waiting area. "The girls are ready too!"

They were paired with a new girlgroup which had debuted just at the beginning of that year. Everyone called them the Monster Rookies already, eventhough they came from a smaller and not so well know Agency, they made their group name big with their talents and Visuals. Their CEO's thought that it would give both groups big benefits if they collaborated and stuck together in a CO-ED Group Project.

"Hey! The girls are waiting in the grand hall." The Manager told them and the Stylists ushered all of the Members out after fixing their appearance.

"I like this dark theme today. Makes me look sexier than usual." Mingyu giggled. Seungkwan turns around and gave him a judging look. "You look like a failed tan Ken doll which had been repainted over and over again to fit a Certain Image only to end up with black clothes so the other paint jobs wouldn't be revealed." A voice said from behind Seungkwan and he immediately recognised the soft and raspy voice from one of the girls, Jade.

"Noona!" Seungkwan tried to hug her but one of the older girls just pushes him aside and hugged her instead. "You just didn't push me away from her?!" Seungkwan pointed an accusing finger at his elder and the girl just stuck her tongue out at him.

"Ya'll are so childish." Jade said and pushed her member away from her, not too hard of course. "I am totally not in for affection today, sorry." Jade walked past everyone and into the grand hall where the rest of her members were waiting for them to come. "I don't have such a good feeling today." She glanced to look at Jeonghan who was casually swinging an arm over her shoulder. The boy turned to look at her with a concerned expression.

"Are you getting sick?" Mingyu who was behind the both of them grabbed her and put the back of his hand against her forehead and shook his head, signalling Jeonghan that she was fine, no fever whatsoever.

"No. I don't feel sick. I just feel unwell, my gut feeling is telling me that something is not right." Jade pushed the doors open, making everyone's head turn towards the entrance. "I feel the same." Wonwoo chimed in and both of them exchanged looks with each other. Jade and Wonwoo are known by fans and their members to have a kind of twin connection. When one was feeling unwell, the other would too. Sometimes they would even say the same thing out loud and their birthdays are close to each other, thus making them into 'twins from other parents'.

Anju, one of Jade's members run up to her with a concerned face expression, pulling the girl to the Center of the room by force.

"You told me you had a bad feeling the whole day right?" Jade nodded and stared at her, already knowing that something weird is going on right now. "We might have a Reason why, now. Look!" Anju told her and pointed towards the Screen's around the room which normally had ads or previous performances on Display. But as of right now, they showed yellow and red screens with the bold black and white letters written on them and a small screen cut-out showing them a woman clad in a suit, talking to the camera.

Everyone in the Room went silent as soon as a shrill sound came on. It was kind of annoying since it lasted for a long time but it did got the attention from them all.

"Attention. This is not a Test. Here by I have to tell all Citizens to stay in their Buildings. If you are outside and hearing this, find a Building to stay inside and barricade yourself up. No one is allowed to go outside as of now. The Goverment will send help once they have figured out a solution to this chaos. Stay inside, stay safe. " The Woman's screen disappeared and the TV Screen's showed the Scenery outside.

"What is going on outside?" Anju shook Jade by her Shoulders as if demanding an answer from her.

"I don't really know, yet." Is all Jade could answer before one of their managers grabbed her and pulled her with him towards a more secluded area. "What is it?"

"Your Teammates called. They said they're in the building with us already preparing everything for the worst. Jade, it's time to tell your members about your past life. This seems to be a serious case outside and they don't know if you would even make it back." He looked at her with the most serious yet concerned look on his face.

She sighed and slit outside the room, already knowing where her team was located at.

She sprinted up the few flights of stairs and pulled the door to the right of her open, revealing shocked faces of her teammates. "Leader!" One of the males, Leon, screamed in surprise. "You are already here?!"

Gunho, the second in command handed her the bag with her gear in it. "We missed you. We also have two new members now, after you left, we were assigned to babysit them." He joked and nodded towards two very young looking boys. The two of then were clad in more gear than the other's, showing that they were newbies in the team. Both of them bowed to her.

"Nice to meet you two. Listen to us and you won't get killed. Also don't let yourself get killed by trying to play the hero. You have three rules. Listen to us. Don't play the Hero game and Don't die." Jade walked into the bathroom which was connected to the waiting room they were in at and quickly changed out of her stage clothes and got rid of her makeup, apologizing to her stylists in her head for ruining their hard work.

"Lou-ming and Sara, you two get on the roof. Be ready to snipe at anything that looks suspicious." They saluted and made their way to the rooftop. "The two newbies. Dom and Keith, wasn't it?" The both of them nodded. "I want you all to evacuate everyone in this building, no information leaking, no expression showing. Just evacuate. Make sure they all are shut into their rooms. Give them instructions on how to handle this situation and that's it. When you're done, come downstairs to the grand hall. " Jade looked towards the remaining members. They all started to head down to the grand hall, earning them some weird looks on the way.

"Jade, where were you and what are you wearing?!" Jihyun, one of her members, the leader asked her. All eyes were on them. The halls had gone quiet again after their entrance, yet again.

"Attention! We are a Team send by the Goverment. We specialise in evacuating, educating and securing the people. So if you would kindly listen to us for a moment and have a seat right here, we would appreciate it." Gunho screamed at the top of his lungs and everyone complied.

Jade gently pushed her member down to the floor to sit right infront of her. She gave her a slight smile before standing inbetween her team mates.

They started to tell them about the situation and how they should stay inside until the coast was clear. "You need to understand that this is a serious and very dangerous situation we are in right now. If you don't listen to what we have instructed you to do so, you might be losing your life if you don't." Chase, the third in command told them and patted Jade on the back, already putting his in-ears in.

Jade sat down in the circle of her friends, her managers also joining in.

"I haven't told you guys about the things I have done before I became a Trainee, right? No, I haven't, at least not to all of you." She glanced to the manager she had talked to.

"I had been doing many jobs before, some very normal ones and some more unique. This is the last job I did. A Man named 'Carter Johnson' someone from the Goverment was scouting young talented people with skills that have been unpolished. They teached us random stuff like those they teach at school, University even. Only that you don't major just in one field but in all of them. They also teached you unusual stuff, martial arts, close and far-off combat, Survival in odd lands and Army knowledge. They were planning for this a long time ago, I guess, seeing that many had been scouted. We were called the Elite of the Special Forces. They wanted us to know, if a Biohazard happens, we should know what to do." She let out a big sigh after that.

"I was the Captain of this team. I had approximately twenty men and women in my team. After a mission which we had attended to, five of them died. We were being sold out to the enemie beforehand and the guy that had sold us out died with the incident. I blamed myself for my carelessness and quit there even with if I had to force it. Then I decided to follow my dreams and I became a Trainee. That's how I met all of you guys." She patted on of her Members thigh, already seeing the sad look in her eyes.

"Our Teachers and the People that have been working with us, they were reluctant to let her go. She was the best out of the best. She was what you called a Genius in all the fields they needed her to be. So letting her go was very hard for all of us but Jade being Jade, she was too stubborn to give into the pleas of us. So she left without ever looking back at us. You know, when she turns her back at you and walks away without looking back again, this means she is over with you." Chase a Teammate told them and gave them a slight yet sad smile.

"We really did like her as our Captain. She way a born Leader for this. She was strict when she needed to, yet sweet and caring when she was around us on our free time. She had always put others before herself and even if she was injured badly, she would still make sure that we were treated first. She makes the people she treasures her first priority." Jade took a glance at Chase, a frown appearing on her face, ready to speak but the buzzing sound of their Intercom interrupted their deep talking session.

"Captain J. Sky from Team A.X1 here. What is it?" Jade took the intercom and pressed it close to her ear. The earpiece she was wearing wasn't connected yet, she noted.

"Captain Sky, nice talking to you after such a long time. I have to tell you that your Area had been conterminated with the Virus and I need you to secure every Civilian in your Building, make sure everyone stays in a room off the ground floor and every entrance should be barricaded. You have permission to shoot anything that seems dangerous to you. Further instructions will follow. Stay safe." The lady on the other side ended the call.

Her Friends all looked at her with a concerned look on their faces, her frown had deepened throughout the conversation and this made them worry more.

"This seems like a joke to some of us but a Virus broke out and this Area we are in is conterminated." The girl watched them all exchange some looks of disbelief and utter terror before one of her members stood up in a panic and pointed at the Entrance of the Hall.

"What is wrong with the Guard?!"

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